


The Sea Song

by McSparkles



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dol Amroth, F/M, Inspired by The Lord of the Rings, Mermaids, Original Character(s), Pre-Lord of The Rings, Romance, Sirens, Young Boromir, Young Faramir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-04-11 12:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 57,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19109620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McSparkles/pseuds/McSparkles
Summary: Oaritsi, Foam Maidens, Mermaids, Sirens. The Daughters of Ossë and Uinen have been called by many names. After centuries of battling the dark forces, they willingly faded into history. History became legend, and legend became myth. Nemir born from the union of an Oaritsi and a mortal man, searches to find her place in Middle Earth. The Sea Song always calling to her.





	1. Once Upon a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Aeriel (Daughter of the Sea):  
> Nemir (Water Jewel):  
> Reavor (Netter/Fisher)

Chapter 1

 

Once upon a time…

 

A lone, young man launched a small wooden boat from the smooth sand and into the dark still waters of the Bay of Belfalas. With swift, strong strokes he sent it deeper into the night as the silvery halo of the full moon above provided his eyes with plenty of light and scattered slivers of silver upon the waves. As he prepared to cast his nets, he heard the faintest hint of a sweet sound traveling upon the breeze. Drawn by curiosity, he abandoned his mission and maneuvered his boat towards the mystic voice of forlorn beauty. 

 

The mesmerized man found himself near a cluster of rocks that were hidden under the waves during high tide. To his amazement, he witnessed a wildly, beautiful maiden trapped against the rocks . S he was tangled in an abandoned net, its thick fibers knotted stones.. Her skin, pale as a pearl, shimmered in the cold light. Her dark hair pooled around her as it floated on the surface, and large aqua eyes gazed up at the moon. The ropes entwined around her arms and waste, suspending her above the water. The song she sang was foreign to him, but her desperation and grief were clear. His heart shattered at the sight of her suffering. He yearned to end it. 

 

Like all coastal folk, he had heard legends of the Foam Maidens also called Oaritsi in the elven tongue. He could think of no other explanation to finding a woman restrained in such a way this far out in the bay. 

 

“Please do not despair sea maiden,” the fisherman called out to the distressed woman. “I will do all in my power to free you.” 

 

“What price would you require for this act?” she asked skeptically. 

 

The man, confused by her response, said“My action would require no price. I simply desire to end your despair”. 

 

At this, the lady met his eyes. Their intensity froze him for a moment as he was lost in their pure blue radiance. “Have you not heard the legends? Do you not believe that my capture would bring you a wish?” 

 

“Aye, I have, but I did not capture you dear lady, so it seems as if I am unworthy of such a boon.” he said with a small smile hoping to calm the creature. 

 

“ Ah, but it is not the capture that brings the reward, “ she challenged raising her brow, “ but the release.” 

 

“Even so, I am satisfied with witnessing your beauty and hope that in the future I may hear a happier song from your lips.” replied the man. 

 

This response silenced her as he slowly paddled closer to the rocks making sure not to startle her with quick movements.  He gently drew a knife from his waist and sawed at the cords. 

 

“Do foam Maidens have names?” he asked as he worked. Her eyes intensely followed his hands as he smoothly moved the knife along the nots freeing both hands and beginning the delicate process of freeing her waist. 

 

“I am called Aeriel by my sisters.” 

 

“Aeriel,” repeated the man savoring the name on his tongue. “A well, fitting name for sure. I am called Reavor son of Beavor.”

 

The maiden’s chest was covered only by her long locks and layered necklaces made of shells and sea glass. The lack of clothing made the fisherman’s face blush and he tried to avert his eyes when possible. The sea daughter was amused by his embarrassment and she laughed. The sound caused the man to pause as it was delightful to his ears, like a quickly running stream over smooth stones. 

 

“I never did understand the compultion you have on land to hide and constrict your bodies in layers of cloth,” she stated gesturing to his own clothing. ”You try to pretend as if the body underneath is a great mystery only to be peaked at through gaps of fabric.”

 

The man smiled, “I could see how the need to clothe ourselves would seem strange to you. It would only restrict your movement as you swim through the waves, but it has many uses.” He cut two more cords and moved to the last one. 

 

“Are you not afraid of me?” the maiden asked with a predatory grin as her arm was released from the cord, “How do you know I won’t seduce you down into the waves once I’m free?” 

 

Reavor paused his work and looked up at the dangerous beauty, “I have heard the stories.  An entire crew bewitched by gorgeous maidens and dragged into the icy depths. Is there truth to it?”

 

“There is,” she focused on his face, studying his reaction as his eyes widened and the grip on his knife tightened, but he didn’t stop his task. 

 

“If it was within my power to grant you a wish, what would it be fisherman?” she asked quietly as her face easily morphed from intimidating to friendly. 

 

“Nothing, for i have all I need. A fast boat. A sturdy net. A warm house. And clothing to protect me.” he stated confidently. 

 

“Please, humor me.” she asked sweetly with a full smile, gazing up at the man with her bottomless, blue eyes. 

 

The man hated to refuse her, but was embarrassed by his one true wish and was reluctant to reveal it for fear of mockery. “I am unwilling to reveal it to you for it would be impossible for even Valar to answer.” 

 

He cut the last cord, allowing her to sink into the water. The fisherman leaned over the side of his boat,  staring at the ripples expanding over the inly water. He almost tumbled overboard when she resurfaced by grabbing the side of his boat and lifting her body above the water. She rested her elbows on the edge of the boat.. 

“I see the spark in your eyes. I know, there is something you desire,” she gently caressed his hand and muscled forearm. The man enchanted by her presence, could refuse her no longer.

 

“I would wish for you to join me on land as my wife…all women would forever pale compared to your beauty,” he turned away, bracing himself for ridicule. 

 

She smiled at this for she had seen goodness in him and found him appealing to gaze upon. “I will join you on land for 3 days, and if I find you worthy I will wed you.” 

 

The man was speechless and could not bring himself to hope that her words were true. 

 

“Take me to your home Reavor son of Beavor.” 

 

And so the Foam Maiden traveled to a small cottage on the coast of the ocean with her rescuer. After three days, Aeriel agreed to marry Reavor for she knew him to be honorable and worthy of her love.  She soon gave birth to daughter and they named her Nemir. 


	2. Birthday Surprise

“Nemir!” called a deep voice from below, “time to wake up. Most of the morning has already passed.”

Nemir, disturbed from a deep sleep,  slowly stretched and groaned at her father’s call. She looked down from the loft where her bed was kept to see the smiling face of her father looking back at her. His Gondorian heritage was obvious in his dark, shoulder length hair, gray eyes, and strong face. His shoulders were broad and his body muscled by years of rowing boats and pulling in heavy nets full of fish.

“Happy Birthday my Limelle  (little fish),” he greeted happily, “If you hurry up and come down, I have a present for you.”

Nemir grunted and tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. “I’ll be down momentarily Ada,” she said her voice still rough with sleep.

“Try not to dawdle much longer daughter,  your Naneth has a special day planned,” Reavor chuckled shaking his head slightly. He was all too familiar with his daughter's losing battle with mornings and knew this one would be no different.

Nemir slumped back against her pallet, regretting the long hours she spent on the beach the night before instead of sleeping in her bed. She always found it difficult to sleep at night, especially if the moon was bright like it was last night. Begrudgingly, she accepted her fate and climbed down the ladder and into the small living area that served as the kitchen and dining area. She traversed to her parents’ room where all the clothing was kept and exchanged her sleeping attire for a simple, blue gown.

Once changed, she used her mother’s shell shaped comb to brush out her wild, wavy hair. The bay wind and sleep had released it from the large braids she had created the evening before, its long length caused it to tangled more easily. She had always wished for long hair like her mother’s, but perhaps that was a mistake if it meant she had to dedicate such attention to it. After the tangles had been removed, she tamed the thick mass into a quick braid down her back and then reached for the small mirror glass to appraise her efforts.

Naneth always referred to her hair as Midnight Sea, because it reminded her of the ocean under a full moon. It wasn’t black, but a deep, rich blue. Her hair was dark enough that it could pass for black in dim lighting or under a hood, but would receive odd stares from strangers when left uncovered in daylight. The braid failed to successfully cover her abnormal ears and she had to pull and pin a couple piece to provide better coverage. If one was unfamiliar with elf ears, they might accuse her of being one, but there were subtle differences.

Oaritsi ears are slightly longer than the Eledhrims’ (elves’) and have a more dramatic point. The edge of the ears were uncurved and thinner almost like a fin, dusted with tiny iridescent scales at the edge and tip. Due to her mixed heritage, her ears were not as dramatic as her mother’s but still marked her. She didn’t typically put effort into covering them, but she knew Naneth was planning on taking her to the market in the village today to obtain supplies for the birthday meal that evening. The villagers knew the two ladies were different, but bregrugedly tolerated them if an effort was made to appear normal.  Luckily the house was outside town, so they only had to make an effort on special occasions. Finally she locked eyes with herself. The storm grey staring back at her seemed no different now that she was 15, the age considered the beginning of womanhood.

“Nemir! Are you presentable yet?” her father’s voice released her from her thoughts, “I have to return to the boats soon and I want to give you your present before I do.”

“Coming Ada!” she replied as she quickly returned the comb and mirror and exited the room.

“There is my lovely girl,” her father pulled her into a comforting hug. Though she was tall for her age, her father still made her feel small and protected in his embrace. “Come quickly,” he motioned her to the family table, “and close your eyes”.

Nemir excitedly made her way to the table and sat down, looking around the small room for anything that could be her Birthday present.

“Have I missed the surprise?” her mother asked as she  appeared in the doorway still damp from her morning swim. Her deep, ocean blue hair hung in large braids down her back, a simple robe wrapped around her toned form.

“You have impeccable timing my heart,” responded Reavor and gave his wife a quick kiss. “No peeking Nemir” he reminded.

Nemir shut her eyes again as the anticipation boiled within her. She heard something solid be placed upon the table and the swish of fabric being removed. “Now?” she asked hopefully.

“Now,” replied her parents in unison.

Before her on the table sat an intricately carved harp, about 30 inches tall,  made of bleached driftwood. The head was crafted to look like crashing waves, and the body was inlaid with mother of pearl. This smaller style was similar to the kind used by bards and minstrels because of its portability. Nemir gently reached out and caressed the wood, “It’s beyond lovely”.

“I’m so glad you love it. I know you’ve desired one of your own for some time,” said her mother.

“ I never dreamed of owning an instrument made with such impeccable craftsmanship. Thank you both. I will treasure it forever,” Nemir said as she pulled the harp close to her chest.

“Tonight we shall finally be able to play together after dinner,” planned her father excitedly.

“ I can’t wait Ada,” replied Nemir with a huge smile.

“You will have a little time to familiarize  yourself with your present while I prepare to go to market. We shall be leaving soon as those tarts take time to prepare,” reminded her mother.

“Alas, I must leave as well,” stated her father sadly, “ I’ll be lucky if those boys haven’t sunk every boat at the dock during my absence.”

Nemir reached up to give her father a hug, “Thank you again for my wonder harp Ada. Our duet tonight shall be epic.”

With a kiss to his wife and daughter, Reavor swiftly exited out the door to return to his vessel. Nemir plucked at her harp absorbing the sound of each individual string. Her mother soon exited the bedroom, her hair braided into a bun and a head scarf tied around it to hide the uncommon color. Her dress was unchanged and was sure to cause a scandal in the village, but it wasn’t anything they hadn’t experienced before. Her mother refused to wear the multilayered, heavy, and restrictive styles expected of  mortal women. She prefered light, flowing fabric and almost never wore sleeves unless the weather demanded it. Garments were always made for easy application and removal so that her mother could enter and exit the sea with ease. One particularly nasty, old lady once yelled at her for walking around in her undergarments..

Nemir always believed that the women were always jealous of her mother’s beauty and that is why they enjoyed gossiping so. She tried not to let their words affect her, but it pained her every time a mother pulled their children closer as she walked by. She loved her parents, but her childhood had been a lonely with no one her age to play with.

“Shall we?” asked Aeriel extending an arm to her daughter. Nemir took her mother’s arm with a smile and they began their journey into Town.

Using the word “town” to describe the loose collection of simple, wooden homes, a tavern, smithy, and market was a bit of an exaggeration. Most survived off of the fish that were caught each day and occasionally traders or visitors would pass through on their way to Belfalas or Dol Amroth. It didn’t even have an official name, but locals referred to it as Fish Farm because not much else would grow there. Given the small size of the market, it didn’t take long for Aeriel to  gather the ingredients needed for tarts later that evening. The selection was limited but they were lucky enough to find a few strawberries, honey, and some butter. Most people ignored them, but Nemir still noticed some of the looks cast their way. If it wasn’t for her mother and herself, she didn’t know what the town would have to talk about.

With their supplies gathered, the couple made their way back home guarding the goodies stored in their baskets. The rest of the day would be spent preparing the dinner as the tart making process was time consuming and required dedicated attention.  The mother and daughter sang as they cooked in the kitchen, their voices harmonizing perfectly.

Evening arrived and Reavor entered the door whistling a cheerful sailor tune. “Greetings my lovely ladies! I bring bounty from the sea,” he presented  a bundle of hearty sized fish.

Aeriel smiled and retrieved the fish from her husband's hands. “My knight in scale armor!” she exclaimed and  rewarded him with a kiss, “You wash up while I place these on the fire. Won’t take long for them to cook and the sides are already prepared”.

The family enjoyed a very pleasant dinner of roasted fish, baked potatoes, and strawberry tarts. Nemir savored each bite of her tart knowing her chances of having another before her next birthday were slim. After dinner, the family sat around the hearth and her father retrieved his harp. The wood worn smooth after years of hands gliding over the surface. Nemir excitedly grabbed her new harp as well, “What song shall we sing Ada?”.

“Mmmm…” he pondered a moment before a thought sparked in his eyes, “follow my lead,” he instructed as he began to play a soft and lofting tune. Nemir watched mesmerized as his rough hands danced gracefully along the strings.

Between the here, between the now

Between the north, between the south

Aeriel and Nemir recognized the song and joined their voices with his. Nemir tried to copy his hand movements as she plucked her harp.  

Between the west, between the east

Between the time, between the place

From the shell

A song of the sea

Neither quiet nor calm

Searching for love again

Between the winds, between the waves

Between the sands, between the shore

From the shell

A song of the sea

Neither quiet nor calm

Searching for love again

Between the stones, between the storm

Between belief, between the sea (2)

 

The song concluded and Reavor applauded enthusiastically, “I am blessed for there is no Lord, Noble, or King who has the privilege to witness such a lovely performance.”

“You performed with us as well Ada,” challenged Nemir teasingly.

“Aye, but I hear my own voice constantly so the charm has dwindled a bit,” he responded with a chuckle.  

“It still has the power to charm me,” said her mother with a wink placing a quick kiss on her husband’s cheek.

“And Ulmo be praised for that!” exclaimed her father, “and I pray my luck continues for if not your mother may come to her senses one day and realized the mistake she made marrying a poor fisherman.”

“Never,” replied Aeriel while emphasising her decision with another kiss.

Night had fallen and the silver light of the full moon could be seen rising above the horizon. Spotting this Aeriel motioned to Nemir and drew her eyes to the sky, “It is time. We must make our way to the beach.”

For the first time in her life, Nemir felt slightly reluctant to journey down to the shore. Her mother had kept most of tonight's events a secret only revealing that it related to learning about her heritage now that she was becoming a woman. Forcing the jitters in her stomach down, Nemir nodded and followed her mother down to the water. The moon provided ample light so they could maneuver clearly, and they soon reached the soft sand. Aeriel unwrapped her dress and carefully placed it upon a rock, motioning to Nemir to do the same. With their bodies bare to the cold light, Aeriel lead her daughter down to the surf and into the water. Once the water reached their knees, her mother paused and began to sing in a language unknown to Nemir.  

_My Sisters, my sisters_

_Daughters of the Sea_

_Please hear my voice_

_And come quickly to me_

_The Sea Song_

_The Sea Song_

_Join singing with me_

_My Sister, My sisters_

_Daughters of the Sea_

She repeated the frame several times as her voice carried throughout the waves. Nemir noticed that her mother’s voice had changed upon singing this song. While always beautiful, it now possessed an additional mesmerizing quality, containing a power she had never experienced before. It spoke to her soul and demand that she join in her mother’s song. She saw no need to deny it and her voice added to the magic melody. To her surprise, her voice had acquired the same enchanting quality and it was as if her eyes were open for the first time.

The light provided by the moon increased ten fold and she was able to see into the dark waves as if the sun were still in the sky. In them, she saw around 50 faces staring back at her as they approached the beach.

Foam Maidens gracefully swarmed around the pair, giving  Nemir an opportunity to observe the forms of these unknown relatives. Unsurprisingly they shared many of the same traits with her Naneth: heart shaped face, angled cheekbones, large round eyes, and lean muscles with a sturdy frames. They wore little to no embellishment upon their bodies in terms of clothing.  Many displayed jewelry such as bracelets and necklaces made from pearls, shells, coral, gems, and precious metals. A few even wore tops made of shells or scales to cover their bosoms. The largest divergence came from the variety of hair colors. Nemire spotted white like sea foam, green as seaweed, aqua of the shallows, and grey as a storm. They greeted Aeriel with hugs and phrases she did not quite understand. The language seemed to mimic the very sounds of waves the way it rolled and flowed. She was beginning to feel very overwhelmed and tried to step back but was stopped by more bodies behind her.

A multi-layered circle was beginning to form around the mother and daughter. The women danced joyfully, kicking up foam and seawater while continuing to sing. Aeriel took her daughter in her arms and pulled her close so she was able to speak in her ear despite the surrounding song.

“I can not tell you the answer. I can’t instruct you what to choose. Your spirit and blood will show you the way. No matter what, I love you my Nemir”.  With a sudden release, Aeriel disappeared into the crowd leaving her daughter alone.

Nemir stood in shock for a moment watching the spectacle around her. What was she supposed to do? What if she did something wrong? Her mother’s words repeated in her mind yet no new meaning was obtained. The singing grew louder and it soon overwhelmed her thoughts, a mysterious mist flowed from the ocean surrounding the group.  Each flawless voice flowing into another singing a song that was strange and yet familiar to her. The language foreign, yet the feelings it evoked touched her very essence.

It reminded her of the freedom she felt when swimming along the shore. The lapping and rolling of the waves as they crashed against the sand. The joy she felt when she sang with her family. The need to smell the salt air and hear the calling of gulls. All of these elements joined together like strands woven into a tapestry to form a larger picture revealing the question.

“Do you hear the Sea Song?”

Nemir new that she did hear the Sea Song. She had always heard the Sea Song, but hadn’t recognize it until that moment. Allowing her instincts to guide her, Nemir responded by singing, “ _The Sea Song is within me_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used is titled "Song of the Sea" and it is from a movie with the same name.


	3. Changes

****_"The Sea Song is within me_!" as the words left her lips Nemir was instantly engulfed in infinite darkness. How long she remained there was unknown to her, but as consciousness slowly returned she could feel  gritty sand embedded into her skin and waves lapping against her body. Blinking the salt water from her eyes, she looked up to see her Naneth kneeling above her, attempting to support her body that had fallen into the shallows.

Gently, Aeriel stroked her daughter’s head trying to sooth her, "Be calm Nemir, everything will be alright. The first transformation is always a little traumatic".

Transformation? Confused Nemir tried to stand on her feet but her legs were not responding to her commands. Stumbling she looked down and a sharp shriek escaped her. Gone were her legs and in their place was large, scaly fish tail. Panicking, she looked up at her mother as tears formed in her eyes.

"What…. How?...I…. don't understand!" Nemir exclaimed as tears ran down her cheeks and breaths became shallow and quick.

Aeriel pulled the girl closer into her arms in an attempt to calm her daughter’s hysteria. The other woman standing in the waves weren’t horrified at the sight of a half fish girl, but instead smiled at the couple in congradulations.

"Nemir," softly spoke Aeriel, "do you remember the legends I told you of the Foam Maidens and how they lived under the waves".  Nemir nodded slowly snorting some of the snot back into her nose. "Your blood has been awakened, now you can live as I did."

"Is...Is it permanent?" hiccuped Nemir, " Am I stuck like this forever?"

"No sweetie. You will eventually learn to control it and will be able to shift between forms as I do. It will be challenging at first, but I will teach you" consoled Aeriel.

The confidence in her voice was comforting and Nemir took a deep but shakey breath. She gingerly reached down to become better acquainted with the new fin and lightly touched the scales. They were surprisingly smooth to the touch and seemed more durable than regular fish scales, but just as flexible and reflective. The main body of the tail was a soft, silvery blue that reminded her of the morning sky on a foggy day. As the color traveled down toward the main fin, it gradually darkened till the color resembling her midnight blue hair. Even Nemir, in her current state of shock, had to admit that it was beautiful.

"The scales are extra thick and provide us with a natural armor," explained her mother, "the smaller, more delicate side fins will help give you balance when swimming".

"Will I learn...well relearn how to swim tonight?" Nemir asked curiously unsure if the idea should excite or terrify her.

"Not tonight. It will take some time for you to learn how to control this form, but I will be able to assist you. Tonight, while the full moon rises, we will celebrate your awakening with song and dance," said Aeriel.

"How do I return my legs?" she asked hoping that the process remained painless.

"First we must remove you from the water. Without training you won’t be able to contact water without transforming," explained Aeriel as she motioned to a fellow foam maiden to assist her with the relocation. Nemir was afraid that the added weight of her large, muscular tail would make it a difficult task, but they moved her without strain. “I guess constantly swimming in the ocean is a good way to gain muscle,” she thought as they gently placed her on the sand far from the touch on the incoming waves. The rest of the women sat in a clustered circle around the girl and began to hum in union.

"Their song will help make the transformation easier for you," said Aeriel as she lowered herself down beside her daughter, "Close your eyes and concentrate on thoughts of earth. Trees. Dirt. Fruit. Anything that connects you to the above world".

Letting the soft hum of their voices fade into the background, Nemir closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. Unfortunately this was a more difficult than expected since the ocean was such a significant element in her daily life having spent almost every day on or near the beach.  Ada and Naneth were heavily connected to the ocean as well. Ada always smelling of fish and salt and Naneth contained the sea in her very blood. Nemir dug down deeper searching for the memories needed to remind her body it had legs. Her hands grasped at the dry shifting sand beneath her attempting to anchor herself to the ground. Her mind wandered to the way the sun made it too hot to touch on summer days. She imagined how the heat dried the ground sometimes causing the plants to wither when rain refused to fall. She thought of her loft and how warm and cozy it was when she was wrapped in a blanket warmed by the fire. Nemir reminisced about a time she spent the afternoon with Ada running through the field picking wild flower to give to Naneth for her birthday.

Slowly the bottom half of her body began to tingle, starting at the base of the fin and gradually growing up the tail. Nemir tried to recreate the experience of wiggling her toes and as the sensation became more intense she could feel the feet separating and reforming. The process was odd but surprisingly painless. When she opened her eyes, her legs had returned and the only evidence that the transformation had occurred came from the webbing that now resided between her toes. The surrounding group cheered and congratulated the completion of the transformation, and Nemir couldn't help but smile about the accomplishment.

Aeriel smiled and embraced her daughter placing a kiss upon her cheek, “ I’m so proud of you”. She then motioned to a beautiful lady with hair pale as moonstone and turquoise eyes, "Nengelil is a lore keeper and she has a gift for you".

Nengelil motioned for everyone to settle as she moved to the center of the circle with Aeriel and Nemir.

Once it became quiet, Nengelil stood before Nemir holding a small object cupped in her hand, "Nemir, tonight signals the awakening of your birthright. Before all these witnesses, and on the behalf of Ossë and Uinen,  I formally welcome you. Please kneel Oaritsi.”

Nemir slowly lowered her body into the sand and sat upon her knees looking up up at Nengelil, anticipation forming a knot in her abdomen. The moon pale mermaid followed suit, but sat at Nemir’s back. Reaching out, Nengelil released the leather thong at the base of Nemir’s hair, freeing it from the braid, and using her fingers combed through the strands to remove any major tangles. Once satisfied, she reached for a small section of hair and formed a tiny twist.

At the end of the twist, she presented a perfect white pearl, “The white pearls represent the tears of Uinen and how the purity of her love saved Osse from the darkness of Morgoth, giving birth to the Oaritsi.” She slid a few of the white spears upon the twist before presenting a pearl black in color,”The addition of the black pearl serves as a reminder to our people to resist the temptation of the dark for we are our father’s daughters, and the love of the storm lives in us all. Finally we end with another white pearl to signalize a return to grace and to remind us it is never too late to return to the light.” The strand finished, Nengelil stood and offered her hand to Nemir to help raise her from the sand. Nemir accepted as congratulations rose from the group.

Nemir was approached by another Foam Maiden with green hair and a necklace made from starfish, "My name is Celenil,” she said with a smile and embrace.“We have created a gift for you Nemir,” Celenil presented her with a thin silver circlet with an aquamarine gem embedded in the center and on either side of the stone sat clusters of pearls that flowed across the front of the circle. It was beautiful and Nemir felt unworthy of such a marvelous gift. When she tried to voice objections, the maid would hear none and gently placed it upon my head.

"It is beautiful. Thank you," said Nemir trying to voice her gratitude.

"Come," she responded grabbing Nemir’s hand with enthusiasm, "Let us dance in the moonbeams and let our song serenade the stars." Nemir felt hesitant at first but her relative’s energy was infectious and others had already began frolicking on the beach. Nemir allowed herself to be  dragged into a rapidly moving circle and joined them in joyous song. After some time, a thought came to Nemir and she turned to the mermaid closest her her, “Are we not concerned about being discovered? Our song carries far over the water and the village is not so far away?”

The mermaid responded with laughter which was not the response Nemir expected, “Oh, I am certain they can hear us in that miserable village, and in the morning they will all wake from strange dreams of song and the sea”.

The celebration continued long into the night and at some point Nemir  found herself lying upon the soft sand in order to rest for but a moment. When she opened her eyes, however, the moon was gone and the sun was beginning to peak above the horizon. The light of the sun reflecting off the water blinded Nemir’s sensitive eyes and she tried to shield them with a hand. She made an effort to lift her body up with her remaining arm to better scan the beach searching for any remaining visitors from the night before, but her body greatly protested.  Seems the combination of little sleep and a missing bed was causing her muscles to rebel as they shook under her own weight. Her body crashed back onto the sand and she used her arm to protect her eyes from the oncoming light in hope that the needed energy to move would eventually arrive. Her brain had yet to process the night’s events and she didn’t have the gumption at this hour to try and sort through the memories. After a few moments, the sound of feet crunching and shifting sand caused a panic as her body lacked any form of clothing. The fear gave Nemir the energy needed to quickly sit up and search for the source of the noise, but the rush of blood to her head made her dizzy. Luckily it was only her mother retrieving her long forsaken dress from the rock where she had left it the night before. Nemir clumsily made an attempt to stand but this doesn’t go well and she is quickly returned to the soft sand.

“I know you must be tired Nemir, but you can’t lay nude on the beach all day,” said Aeriel as she approached, “the faster you dress, the faster I can help you into your bed”.

The thought of returning to sleep in her comfortable loft was the motivation needed to push her limbs into functioning. With her mother’s assistance, Nemir’s second attempt to stand was a success and she wrapped her dress around her, securing it in the middle with tied belt. The walk back to the house was not a memorable one and Nemir was sure she slept through most of it. Reavor attempted to converse with them when they entered,  but Nemir only managed some grumbles in return as she focused on climbing the ladder to access her bed. Reaching the top, she quickly returned to blissful oblivion as her head hit the pillow.

Nemir awoke several hours later to the sound of movement coming from downstairs so she assumed mother must be awake as well. The events of last night rushed back to her, and she wasn’t entirely certain it wasn’t all a dream until she tried to untangle the circlet from her large mass of tangled hair. Knowing that she wouldn’t make much progress without a comb and mirror, Nemir made her way to her parents’ room.

The reflection that met her was a little shocking to say the least. It looked like a seagull had made a nest in her hair as it was covered in sand and a few small protruding twigs. The circlet could barely be seen through the thick tangle of hair surrounding it and the pearls were completely lost. With a long sigh, Nemir tried to ready herself for the long task ahead of her and hoped that a blade wouldn’t be needed. Unthinkingly she walked to her mother’s washbasin and used some water to wash the residual sand from her face. Within moments a tingling sensation swarmed her legs and she was suddenly falling face first into the floor.

“Damn it,” grumbled Nemir as she rolled onto her back seeing the large fin sprawled behind her. She wasn’t sure if she should scream or laugh about the entire situation and decided that a “Damn it to Mordor” would have to do before calling for her Naneth.

Aeriel walked into the room but seemed generally surprised to see her daughter stranded on the floor, “Oh darling, I should have reminded you. I am so sorry. I forgot that I left water in my wash bowl”.

“It’s fine Naneth,” responded Nemir with a frustrated sigh, “I should have remembered, but honestly last night didn’t really seem real until now”.

“I know it is a big transition, but with some training this won’t be an issue for much longer,” encouraged Aeriel, “just remember how you transformed last night. The process is the same and will become easier the more you do it”.

Nemir closed her eyes and tried channelling the same memories and emotions that worked for her the night before. The feeling felt right, but without the supporting magic of the other Foam Maidens the process took much longer. With her legs newly returned, Aeriel helped her daughter to her feet.  “Now to focus on that rat’s nest living on top of your head” said her mother jokingly as she led Nemir over to a chair.

“Just do your best Naneth, but I am afraid it’s beyond hope,” sighed Nemir.

“Don’t be so dramatic Nemir,” chided Aeriel as she collected her tools from a drawer, ”I have seen worse than this. Your Aunt Luinel once got her hair so tangled in a forest of seaweed that she was stranded for hours until someone came to cut her out”. Aeriel carefully began to unwind the long locks from around the silver circlet, “This is why we wear our hair in braids whenever we are in the water,” continued her mother, “it is almost impossible to swim with large amounts of hair swirling around your head and catching on every stick or weed. Success!” The circle lifted from Nemir’s head and was gently placed on a table for safekeeping. Grabbing the comb, Aeriel’s focus moved to the ends of Nemir’s hair where she gently began to brush out the tangles. “Luinel insisted on leaving her beautiful turquoise hair loose at all times because she liked the way it flowed behind her,” chuckled Aeriel as she relived the memory.

“Do you miss living with your family,” asked Nemir. This was the first time her mother had ever spoken openly about one of her sisters.

“Sometimes,” she replied, “but I know I will return to them someday and they are still close to me here by the sea so I am able to visit if needed”. The tangles at the bottom cleared, she worked her way up the hair.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a time and Nemir tried to relax as the comb traveling through her hair felt good to her scalp. Once the knots were removed, her mother returned the pearls to her hair and began to section it in preparation for braiding. The sides of her head contained a smaller, tight braid with a large looser braid going down the middle. Aeriel secured the ends by tying them with small pieces of leather before proclaiming, “Finished!” and handing her daughter the small looking glass.

Nemir reached for the mirror and examined her mother’s handywork. The effect was certainly striking as the braids allowed for her angled cheekbones and large eyes to become more prominent. “Wow, no other girls in the village will be wearing this that’s for sure”.

“Do you not like it?” asked Aeriel worriedly.

“No, I love it,” assured Nemir, “It just has a fierceness that most girls would avoid that is all”.

“Good,” Aeriel nodded her head in approval, “As you enter womanhood you must remember that you are more than a fisherman’s daughter. Your father wanted to give you a normal mortal childhood, but now it is time for you to take on the mantle of the Oaritsi. We are a proud and powerful people with a fierceness that makes us dangerous enemies. Always remember Nemir we are not bound by the rules of Men.”.

“It is hard for me to picture myself as all those things you described,” said Nemir feeling discouraged and insecure, “ I can’t even control my tail”.

Aeriel wrapped her arms around her daughter, “All of that will come in time and with training. It won’t be easy, but I will be here to help you. Even great sharks are born as small helpless minnows. Let me show you something.” Her mother walked to a large truck used to store blankets at the foot of the bed and after searching through the layers of fabric freed a bundle wrapped in linen and placed it on the bed.

“What is it?” ask Nemir  curiously as she approached the bed leaning over the mysterious object.

“This is Blue Fire,” said Aeriel as she removed the covering revealing the most exquisite weapon Nemir had ever seen. The handle was made from forged black steel, but not the foot long blade. The blade was formed from a large blue gem encasing an iridescent display of colored flakes in various shades of blue and green but amongst them shone an unexpected vibrant red. As Aeriel lifted the weapon from the bed, it caught the sun and seemed to radiate with an inner fire.

“It’s beautiful!” explained Nemir gingerly extending a hand toward the blade, “ How is this possible?”

“Blue Fire is only found in rock covered by ocean water which makes it difficult to mine for most, but not for us. We typically use the smaller gems for decoration, but occasionally a large enough piece is found to be formed into more useful things. ” Aeriel explained.

“But why a weapon? Is it only decorative?” asked Nemir.

Aeriel chuckled, “Don’t let its beauty fool you, it has a ferocious bite. The strength of the stone matches that of steel without the possibility of erosion”. She handed the weapon to her daughter who awkwardly held it on her flat palms. “I carried this blade during the Numenor invasion of the Enchanted Isles.”

It was hard for Nemir to imagine her mother, the current wife of a simple fisherman,  charging up a beach at a dark enemy. She knew her mother had lived hundreds of lives, but the age seldom showed except in moments like this. It made her question her own future for imagining a life outside of this house was so hard to picture at the moment. The feeling made her uncomfortable and she quickly pushed it aside for another time and returned the knife to her mother.

“Now let’s get you a fresh dress, we have much to do before training starts this evening,” said Aeriel as she returned the weapon to its hiding spot.  

“This evening!” exclaimed Nemir.  

“Well yes. I can’t have you flopping about the floor every time you wash a dish,” said Aeriel laughing.

The day went by quickly and soon Reavor was home from a long day in the boat. Like usual, he brought home some of the bounty for dinner and kissed both women soon after entering the house. The normality of the evening seemed almost surreal to Nemir when compared to the events that took place earlier that day. Dinner was pleasant and they even managed to have a quick family sing along before Aeriel rushed Nemir down to the beach to have her first night of training.

The moon offered light to help guide them and it didn’t take long for the couple to reach the shore. The only supplies Aeriel bought was a drying cloth and a wooden bucket, which Nemir thought to be slightly odd but she decided not to vocalize her question. Aeriel motioned for her daughter to lay down on the sand high up on the beach away from the waves. Nemir obliged and watched as her mother filled the bucket with seawater before returning to her on the sand.

“How am I learning to swim up here on the sand?” asked Nemir.

“Swimming? Nemir, you must learn to crawl before you can run. It is crucial you gain control over the transformation quickly or you could find yourself stranded in the middle of Fish Farm because of a puddle. We are very vulnerable in this state when outside of the water.”

“May I assume that the bucket of water is for me then?” the night lost most of its enchantment as Nemir pictured her mother repeatedly emptying buckets of seawater over her head.

“Yes,” replied Aeriel, “I’m going to splash small amounts of water upon your body and you are going to delay the transformation as long as possible. Your ability will increase overtime until you can resist it completely.”

Nemir tried to mentally prepare for the challenge ahead. Yes, this morning had been a failure, but she wasn’t expecting it and therefore couldn’t counter her body’s urge to grow scales. “I’m ready… I think,”.

Her mother reached her hand into the bucket and used it to drizzle the residuary water onto Nemir’s legs. It took about three seconds of contact before the change took place. After using the drying cloth to remove the water, Nemir’s legs returned once again. They continued this exercise for over an hour with Nemir making limited progress. When they decided to stop for the night, the longest time had been around thirty seconds.  Nemir was not feeling very impressed with her performance but her mother seemed pleased with her improvement.

“You did well Nemir” encourage Aeriel as they walked up the beach to their simple home.

“So I’m not the worst mermaid?” asked Nemir.

Aeriel laughed, “No daughter of mine would ever be the worst at anything!” she declared as she embraced her daughter. “Let's retire quickly for you have the pleasure of doing this every night for the foreseeable future.”

“I’m ecstatic,” replied Nemir with a sarcastic grin. The two quietly entered the house hoping to avoid waking Reavor and quickly went to their beds. Nemir was soon asleep and her dreams were full of evil wooden buckets trying to throw her into the ocean where her father waited in a boat with a fishing net to catch her.


	4. Challenges

_Aquan/mer Language_

Aeriel continued to train her daughter in the weeks ahead by gradually increasing the amount of water exposure as Nemir’s control improved. After four months, Nemir was able to stand in the ocean at knee level for 10 minutes before the urge to transform overtook her. Nemir was happy about the progress she had made, but was beginning to feel impatient. The two women were returning to the house late one evening when Nemir decided to confront her mother.

“Naneth,” began Nemir, “I have been doing well have I not?”

“Yes, of course!” assured Aeriel, “I have been very impressed by your progress. I expect you to have full control of your transformation in another six months.”

“That long?” sighed Nemir as her shoulders drooped in disappointment, “I don’t want to sound impatient, but I was hoping to be exploring the ocean long before now.”

“I know this can be a bit tedious, but it is imperative that you have ultimate control in all aspects,” explained Aeriel.

“I’ve spent my entire life swimming in these waters,” her arms motioning back to the shore.  “I don’t see how that has changed now that I have a tail,” challenged Nemir crossing her arms and facing her mother.

“I understand your frustration, but you aren’t ready. Your powers are starting to emerge and you don’t yet understand what you can do,” countered Aeriel as she tried to calm her daughter.

“Then teach me. I’m tired of having buckets of water dumped on me like I’m a dirty pig. I’ve made so much progress. I can do more!” demanded Nemir.

“You can’t rush this process,” Aeriel’s voice became more intense, “Stop thinking like a mortal Nemir. Power such as ours are not become mastered in a couple short months. I don’t want you hurting yourself or others because I failed to train you incorrectly.”

“I’m not dangerous!” insisted Nemir, “I would never hurt anyone! Do you really believe I would?”

“No, not intentionally you wouldn’t,” said her mother as she reached out to her daughter and brought her close, “but I need you to trust me. Please.” The look of desperation in her mother’s eyes instantly extinguished the rebellious flame inside of Nemir and she returned her mother’s embrace.

“I’m sorry Naneth,” apologized Nemir, “I will trust your wisdom in this.”

Aeriel smiled down at her beautiful daughter, “Thank you Nemir. That is all I ask”.

Seasons changed and soon the weather was growing colder. Frost encrusted the ground each morning, the blue sky was often hidden by dreary grey clouds and the wind would cut through the shore like a knife. The family spent what time they could indoors around the warm fire entertaining each other with songs and legends of old. Aeriel continued training lessons, but the academic elements returned since the family was spending more time indoors. Her mother always insisted that Nemir participate in classes since she was a little girl. They covered a vast variety of subjects such as: language, history, music, dance, and politics. Nemir didn’t mind, she always enjoyed her mother’s lessons, she was especially drawn to the stories of old. Though she sometimes didn’t see how they were relevant to the life they had on the shore.

Nemir was pleasantly surprised to discover that the colder temperatures didn’t affect her as severely as it once did. Her body should be forced into an unpleasant state of violent shivering each time it was exposed to the cold water, but she only felt a mild coolness. Despite this, Nemir was beginning to dislike each trip she took with her mother down toward the shore. The urge to dive into the crashing waves became stronger with each visit and the touch of the water on her skin was torture. She felt like a starving child at a banquet who was only allowed to eat the crumbs that fell to the floor. She loved her mother, but she was beginning to wondering if she was being a little over protective. She had almost complete control over the transformation now and  could stand waist deep in the waves for over an hour before any desire took her and freshwater had no effect.

Nemir stayed strong until one particularly lovely spring day. It was the warmest she had experienced since the end of winter, and the sun was sending rays of joy through a cloudless blue sky.  Nemir couldn’t resist taking a walk down to the shore later that afternoon after assisting her mother with the chores. The sand felt smooth and warm between her toes, the blue of the water was so bright it seemed to merge with the sky, and the sun made the waves shine like diamonds. She had no intention of disobeying her mother’s orders when she walked along the shallows where the waves met the shore. She had done it hundreds of times with her mother present and she had remained in control each time.

Instead of walking horizontally with the waves, however, Nemir’s path gradually traveled farther out into the water. She knew in the back of her mind that she should stop, but that voice was drowned out by the sound of waves crashing and rolling into the shore. The water against her skin felt warm and comforting, but it soaked into her dress making it heavy and cumbersome. She slowly untied the sash around her waist and let the wind free the dress from her body and discarded it upon the shore. When the water reached her waist she allowed the transformation to overcome her and for the first time she was able to experience the motion of her powerful fin and how it moved through the water.

She was an experienced swimmer before the existence of fins, but there were still some adjustments to be made.  The force of her tail was more powerful than expected and she was quickly thrust forward into the water, the lack of control causing her to crash into the sand below. The continuous cycle of the waves swirling around her was disorienting and she was unable to surface to gain a breath. Her lungs burned and panic was beginning to set it. The battle was a losing one and she could no longer fight the urge to take a breath, but the result was not what she anticipated. Instead of drowning as salt water invaded her throat, she felt the relief of oxygen flood through her. Nemir didn’t get much time to process this development before she was forced upon the shore, her body encrusted with sand. The sudden change from water to air caused her to cough as she slowly turned her body onto her back and collapsed into the sand. She laid there catching her breath, trying to process her new discovery. A giant smile spread across her face and she enthusiastically jumped back into the ocean using her muscular tail to push her past the waves and into deeper water.

_______

Aeriel was beginning to worry. The sun was setting and Nemir had still not returned after leaving several hours ago to visit the beach. It wasn’t unusual for her daughter to be gone for long periods of time, but it was almost dinner time and she had promised to be home before then.  It certainly wasn’t the first time Nemir had lost track of time while visiting the seashore, but a tingle of anxiety continued to nag at her. Finally she decided to fetch Nemir herself if only to silence her own head and the rock forming at the base of her stomach. The shore was just a quick walk away and Aeriel was soon scanning the beach for any sign of her missing daughter. She spotted a set of old footprints in the sand that lead toward the rising tide and rushed forward to follow them. The tracks didn’t go far before the incoming waves washed away what remained, but the direction was clear. Aeriel tried to fight down the feeling of panic that was quickly developing within her, grasping at the slight hope that her daughter had not disappeared into the waves.  Her weak optimism was soon smashed as she discovered Nemir’s dress discarded on the shore, soaked by the incoming water. Grasping the fabric to her body, Aeriel looked out into the vast water as the sun began to sink into the horizon wondering if her daughter would return.

_______

Nemir forced the muscles in her tail to cut through the water, feeling a slight burn as she tested her own limits. The speed she achieved was beyond anything she could have imagined and she couldn’t help but smile as bubbles and fish flew past her in a blur. She took a sharp turn upward using her full momentum to break the surface of the water, projecting her body high into the air. While there, she was able to glimpse a beautiful scene of the bay turned crimson and gold by the setting sun before diving back into the depths. She surfaced again to better appreciate the view while casually floating and allowing the current to guide her. So entranced was she that she didn’t notice the small fishing boat until her head met the solid wood bow.

“Ouch!” she exclaimed in surprise as she turned to face the intrusive object while rubbing the back of her head. She turned and met two pairs of wide eyes staring down at her from the side of the boat. Their faces were young and they looked to be only a couple years older than Nemir. It took a moment for everyone involved to process the situation and the 3 teenangers stayed frozen exchanging surprised glances. Finally the skinny one with dirty blond hair and a pointy nose broke the silence, “Morfindir, quickly grab the net before it can enchant us.”

Nemir did not wait to hear the reply before quickly ducking down into water with a flip of her powerful tail, splashing the faces of the two boys. Her heart quickened with a rush of adrenaline, and she traveled to what she thought was a safe depth before pausing to calm her nerves. She heard raised voices from above just before a harpoon flew past her. Pain sprang from her upper arm as a stream of blood flowed into the ocean. A rope was attached to the weapon and as her eyes followed it to the boat above, a great anger grew inside her. How dare these boys try to harm her! She was not some animal to be hunted! She grabbed the rope and using her full power gave it an aggressive pull. As she expected, the thrower had attached the rope to his forearm in hopes to retrieve the target from the water and the unexpected force caused him to fall into the water. Into her domain. She was the predator here.

The boy splashed violently for a few moments calling out desperately to his friend for help, “Morfindir! Quick! Help me!”.

Nemir, using the rope, pulled him out of the rescuing reach of the boat. She watched with satisfaction as he flailed about desperately. Perhaps now he will think twice before harming random women he meets in the ocean. A different voice from the boat above cut through the water, “Oaritsi, please have mercy on my cousin. Though he deserves your wrath, he can’t swim.”

“Well then he shouldn’t be out in a boat then,” thought Nemir unsympathetically. The blond boy’s struggling was slowing down and his body was losing the battle to stay surfaced. As his body finally sank below the waves, Nemir’s resolve began to waver and her anger slightly subsided. Sighing, she swam to the suspended body, looped her arms under his, and swam upward toward the boat.  When the boy’s head surfaced, he expelled salt water with a ragged cough before taking a deep breath. Strong hands instantly reached down and freed the body from the water, pulling it into the safety of the boat.

Nemir turned to leave when a voice called out, “Wait!” she turned to face the voice and saw it was the one called Morfindir. He looked like he was around 18 years of age with broad shoulders, long rich brown hair, and crystal blue eyes. Nemir couldn’t help but think he was attractive, but the current circumstances did not place him him a positive light. She raised a single eyebrow in response and crossed her arms challengingly.

“Thank you,” his eyes were full of sincerity and Nemir accepted his apology with a simple nod before disappearing below the surface.

Nemir attempted to calm herself after the violent interaction with the two males. She traveled to a secluded area and stayed hidden as the sky darkened to an inky black providing the perfect background for the silver glow of the moon and stars. The lack of clouds in the sky allowed the brilliant lights to reflect clearly upon the black surface of the still water, and Nemir could easily imagine herself swimming through the night sky amongst the stars. She felt peaceful for the first time since her 15th birthday party so many months ago. The delight caused the Sea Song to stir within her and the urge to voice this feeling grew and a gentle song escaped from her lips into the night.

____

Aeriel took a few calming breaths and tried to focus on creating a strategy to locate her missing daughter.  Her only advantage being that Nemir was unfamiliar with her mer-form which should limit her to the bay. This wasn’t saying much, however, because the Bay of Belfast was rather vast and almost stretched the width of the whole kingdom.  She had no other option; she needed more fins in the water if she was to be successful.

Stepping into the waves, she begrudgingly called for the two Foam Maidens she knew would be close enough to answer her distress song. “ _Laegwen and Mithiel please hear my plea. My daughter has become lost to me. I need your help searching the sea_.”  Aeriel repeated the phrase a couple more times before returning to the edge of the waves to pace impatiently while waiting for her sisters to arrive. Thankfully, their response was swift and Aeriel soon spotted two forms walking out of the ocean toward her.

The first was an impressive sight for the woman was over six feet tall with defined muscles and broad shoulders.  Her hair was an eye catching shade of silver that reflected the moonlight giving it a subtle glow and eyes of cutting blue. Her body expelled confidence, her face was often seen sporting a cocky grin and she was known for her sharp tongue. Aeriel had always been impressed by Mithiel and her extraordinary attitude.

Laegwen followed close behind. Her body was also tall and muscled, but her frame was slender and she moved gracefully like kelp swaying with the currents. Her hair and eyes were a vibrant green that was not dimmed by the lack of light. She was known as a gentle soul who spent most of her time tending to the sea life that lived amongst the shadows.  

“Sisters!” exclaimed Aeriel as she rushed to embrace them, “We must move with much haste. Nemir has disappeared into the bay and I fear the worst”.

“We will offer what help we can dear sister, but surely no harm would come to her here,” responded Laegwen calmly.

“Yes, Aeriel,” boomed Mithiel, “These are calm waters and the sky is clear. No need to hover about the girl like a hungry seagull”.

“You don’t understand,” explained Aeriel frantically, “She isn’t prepared.  This is the first time she has experienced deep water in her mer form, and I’m not there to assist her.”

Mithiel raised an eyebrow at her sister, “Surely you jest. It has been almost a year since her awakening.  No wonder she disappeared. The calling must have been driving the girl mad.”

“It does seem rather unorthodox..,” added Laegwen hesitantly.

“I was trying to protect her,” defended Aeriel, “I wanted her to have better control before she faced the full calling of the Sea Song again.”

“Was she having issues controlling her form?” asked Laegwen.

“No, she has been doing quite well actually…” replied Aeriel quietly.

“Then what seems to be the issue here?” demanded Mithiel.

“She… possesses the Sea Spell. I heard it in her song the night of her 15th birthday during the ceremony,” confessed Aeriel to the Foam Maidens.

Laegwen and Mithiel exchanged confused glances before turning their faces toward the frustrated mother. “Aeriel, has living with men for 20 years turned your brain into a sponge? You are speaking nonsense. Your daughter simply inherited this skill from you, or have you forgotten?” Mithiel challenged with her typical lack of couth.

“What Mithiel is trying to say,” interjected Laegwen shooting a warning glance at Mithiel, “why would this cause you to limit Nemir’s expose to the ocean?”

“I was scared,” Aeriel sighed and sank down into the sand as if she could no longer support the weight that rested upon her shoulders, “The Sea Spell is such a difficult gift to control and Nemir is still so young. I didn’t want to risk exposing her to the full power of the Sea Song before she had learned control. The call only makes it more difficult to learn restraint.”

“Aeriel,” Laegwen took a seat next to her sister, “Where did the fear of your gift come from? It is a rare blessing.”

“Blessing,” scoffed Aeriel, “All of us possess the power to influence the actions of men. Lure them in numerous directions, confuse their minds, or summon mist to blind their eyes, but no matter how strong the song their will is still intact. You couldn’t force them to complete an action that conflicted with their very soul. The Sea Spell is different.  A man would murder his own mother if I demanded it. I once ordered a Captain to steer his ship into another resulting in the death of himself and most of his crew. Men he had sworn to guide and protect now dead by his hand.” Aeriel looked into the faces of her sisters searching for a sign of understanding, “That sort of power… it is corrupting. In my younger days, I was foolish and thought to use it to my advantage and was almost lost to darkness. I do not want that for Nemir.“

The three sat for a moment until Mithiel broke the silence, “You had no one to teach you Aeriel. None of us did and this resulted in many mistakes being made in the early years, but you can be there for your daughter. Keep her from making the same mistakes you did, but only if you are honest with her. You have to trust her. “

The three women walked determinedly into the surf when Laegwen suddenly stopped and motioned for the others to the same. “I hear a faint song on the wind.” Aeriel and Mithiel followed suit and strained their ears.

“I hear it as well… it sounds like… Nemir!” exclaimed Aeriel, quickly getting to her feet and stripping away her dress.

“We best hurry before she has every boy in the village fetching their boats. You were right Aeriel; she is certainly a natural,” with a wink Mithiel dived into a waves and the two quickly followed.

The group followed the song through the darkness and into the bay till they spotted a female figure floating in the moonlight.

“Nemir,” yelled Aeriel.

“Naneth?”  Nemir’s song stopped as she searched for the source of the voice. Aeriel rushed to her daughter and attempted to embrace her, but Nemir pushed away putting a healthy distance between her and her mother.

Aeriel was a little taken aback, “Nemir, why do you run from me?”

“I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here where I belong. You’ve kept me away too long,” challenged Nemir.

“I’m sorry darling, I shouldn’t have kept you away from the ocean for this long,” apologized Aeriel, “but I was only trying to protect you. What happened to your arm?” she asked spotting the red gash.

“Nothing, I wasn’t able to handle,” responded Nemir covering her wound with her hand.

“This is what I was afraid of!” exclaimed Aeriel, “Were you attacked?”. Nemir remained silent but her guilty eyes spoke volumes to her mother.

“It is easy to lose yourself within the depths if you aren’t anchored. You were attacked today, and yet instead of hiding we were still able to find you by following your song. What if we had been a group of mortals wanting revenge? I have made mistakes, I know, I only ask that you allow me to fix them,” Aeriel offered her daughter her hand.

“And you won’t be doing it alone,” interjected Mithiel.

Nemir strained her neck to look around her mother searching for the source of the voice, “Who is there?” Two Foam Maidens swam up to join the mother and daughter.

“This is Mithiel and Laegwen who agreed to assist me in my search for you.” Nemir greeted her aunts with a shy wave slightly embarrassed that they had witnessed her outburst.

“We would like to offer our services to you Nemir,” continued Mithiel, “Your mother is a talented mermaid to be sure, but we each have our own specialties to offer.”  

“Are you sure?” asked Aeriel, “She is still young and has a few years to go.”

“When you have lived as long as we have sister, what are a couple years? Besides, I can’t let you teacher her how to use a spear. Your aim was always horrible,” taunted Mithiel.

“Spear! You’re going to teach me how to fight?” Nemir asked excitedly.

“Oh, I’m going to teach you more than that. I’m going to teach you win!” Mithiel grasped Nemir’s shoulder, “sturdy frame, but your muscles need improvement. You won’t do much damage with those jellyfish arms”.

“Sometimes conflict is not always the best option,” interjected Laegwen, “My specialty focuses on the benefits of camouflage”.

“I remember the time you cast an illusion on a boulder so strong, a group of orcs attacked if for almost an hour.” reminisced Aeriel laughing.

“Will I be able to do that?” Nemir’s face could barely contain her excitement.

“That depends. Each of us is gifted with different talents and abilities and yours will surface as you grow older,” explained Aeriel, “but I think it is best if we return home for now. Your Ada will certainly be worried at our unexpected absence”.

“But Naneth, you haven’t told me about your gifts,” said Nemir.

“Tomorrow, Nemir, I promise to share with you, but it is late and this tale is a long one,” vowed her mother.

Nemir’s curiosity was peaked, “You know I’ll hold you to that.”

“I would expect nothing less,” smiled Aeriel, “Let’s go home”.


	5. Be Careful What You Wish For

Nemir awoke late the next morning and was surprised at the slight tenderness she felt in her shoulders, thighs, and stomach area as she shifted in her bed. Apparently spending hours swimming in the ocean used more muscles than she realized. She slowly exited her cozy loft trying not to strain her abused body as she climbed down the ladder, but each step caused her face to cringe in pain.

“Good Morning,” greeted Aeriel cheerfully as she bustled about the kitchen taking inventory of available supplies.

“Morning,” mumbled Nemir sleepily as she carefully shuffled her way toward the roughly carved table. She was certain she had aged 100 years overnight and now possessed the body of an old lady. Aeriel noticed her daughter’s pained movements and began to chuckle, “I see your body is now repaying you for yesterday's adventure.”

Nemir responded with a glare as she attempted to sit on a stool at the table. She eventually managed to lower her body down to meet the seat, but only after overcoming the loud objection in her legs. “I’ll grab you some breakfast dear,” said Aeriel sending her a sympathetic smile, “ and then I’ll change the dressing on your wound. I’m afraid the soreness will only become worse till your muscles adjust to the additional strain. Be sure to ask Mithiel about stretches that can help reduce soreness when you see her this evening.”

Nemir startled, her eyes wide and entire body tensed with surprise, “I’m meeting Mithiel today?” she asked her voice edged with alarm. The thought of meeting the intimidating Foam Maiden in her current state terrified her.

“Oh yes, but only after you finish your swim practice with me, and Laegwen has insisted that you meet her after sunset for training as well,” replied Aeriel not hiding her growing smirk as she observed her daughter’s distress.

Nemir’s body collapsed under her mother’s words and her head hit the table with a solid thunk. ”I’m going to die,” she muffled into the table before turning her face up to her mother. “You’re trying to kill me aren’t you?” she accused.

“Don’t be ridiculous Nemir,” Aeriel replied with a roll of her eyes as she placed a bowl of oatmeal on the table. “You’re the one who demanded more advanced training sessions, and we all thought it best to begin as soon as possible.”

“Is this punishment for running away yesterday?” asked Nemir accusingly.

“Oh course not!” exclaimed Aeriel in fake outrage, “Well maybe a little… Be careful what you wish for, it might just come true,” she said giving Nemir a little wink.

Nemir released another groan and returned her head to the table, “I can barely walk! A snail could out run me in this state.”

“The more active you are, the sooner the soreness with disappear, and the salt water will also help soothe your aches and pains. The water gives us strength and it will assist you in healing quickly,” explained Aeriel.

“Well if I leave now, I might make it to the beach before nightfall,” replied Nemir dryly as she reached for her breakfast and shoveled a large spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth. The mixture was thick, warm, and perfectly seasoned with spices and dried fruit.  It wasn’t long before Nemir was scraping the sides of the bowl for every last remaining morsel.

“Nemir,” Aeriel’s serious tone caught Nemir’s attention as her mother took a seat next to her at the small wooden table, bandages in her hands. “I want to apologize for restricting your access to the ocean as long as I did. It never was my intention to cause you grief in any way, I merely wanted what I thought was best for you,” she reached for Nemir’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I know, Naneth,“ replied Nemir as she adjusted her chair to better face her mother, “I just wish you would stop keeping secrets from me. It makes me feel as if you don’t trust me.”

“I do trust you,” sighed Aeriel as she lowered her head, “I wanted to protect you from the burden of this responsibility for as long as possible.”

Nemir leaned forward so she could meet her mother’s eyes, “What are you referring to Naneth?”

“The Sea Spell,” stated Aeriel solemnly.

“Sea Spell…” repeated Nemir slowly with a raised eyebrow, “I haven’t heard that term before. Is it similar to the Sea Song?”

“Yes and no,” explained her mother, “Every Oaritsi possesses the ability to channel the music of the ocean through their song and use it to influence men’s actions. This is accomplished by invoking certain emotions in the listeners and decisions are then made based on those emotions.  The song’s magic also makes the subject susceptible to suggestions. While effective the results are not always predictable because each person reacts differently.”

Nemir leaned back in her chair as she tried to absorb her mother’s words. “I think I understand. If you succeed in frightening your enemy, you can’t be certain in the direction they will flee.”

“Exactly,” confirmed Aeriel with a single solid not of her head, “The Sea Spell, however, affects both emotion and physical action as specified by the enchanter.”

Nemir’s brow furrowed as her head tilted slightly to the side, “I don’t quite understand…”

“I think you do,” Aeriel’s solemn face confirmed Nemir’s fears and her eyes grew in realization, “I hope you now understand the motivation behind my caution.”

Nemir took a deep breath and sat quietly for a moment gazing blankly at the wood grain on the table, “What is the extent of the spell’s power?”

“It is only limited by your focus and ability to be heard. Once a command is given, the subject will follow your order with complete compliance as long as the spell holds. The Sea Song provides greater range, but the Sea Spell provides precision,” Continued Aeriel.

“How…how have you used this power in the past?” inquired Nemir.

Aeriel shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she tried to gather her thoughts, “I did not understand the importance of discipline when I was young. Before your birth, it was only I who possessed the Sea Spell, and I made several mistakes before learning control. It was a dark time in my life and if not for my fellow sisters, I would have succumbed to the darkness long ago. Absolute power such as this is naturally corrupting so I swore an oath only to use it against Melkor, his shadow spawn, and in the last extreme defense of life and family. The secret to controlling this is self-control so before I continue your training, I must demand that you take the same oath.”

“What if you don’t train me? Will I be unable to access this power?” asked Nemir..

Aeriel shook her head, “You would only become a danger to those around you. This gift is in your blood and if you do not learn how to swim you'll drown.”

“I’m sorry for judging you so harshly Naneth,” Nemir’s outstretched arms embraced her mother in a fierce hug, “I promise to obey the oath and to follow your guidance.”

Aeriel returned her daughter’s hug with a firm squeeze, “I love you Nemir.”

The couple soon parted and the women started to complete the long list of daily tasks necessary to support a successful home. Nemir’s responsibilities took longer than usual to complete due to her reduced speed, but she still managed to be done in time to begin her first day of training. She wasn’t sure if this was a positive outcome, but followed her mother down to the shore anyway. While the sun lowered in the sky, light was still plentiful and boats were still out on the sea. In order to avoid attention, Aeriel led her daughter to a more secluded area of the shore that was difficult to access due to an outcrop of rocks. The small cove was peaceful and lined by a small strip beach before being met by a sheer rock face.

“In light of your present condition, I will be merciful and focus on the mental instead of the physical for today’s lesson,” Aeriel positioned her body behind Nemir. “I want you to start by leaning back and floating your body on the surface of the water.” Nemir rested her back upon the water as the sun glinted off her scales. Aeriel gently held her daughter’s shoulders to anchor her in place, “In order to counter the continual physical drain our bodies suffer by living on land, we must regularly access the power of the water to regenerate. This process also increases healing ability and helps negate muscle fatigue and exhaustion.”

Nemir enjoyed the gentle rocking of the waves as it smoothly greeted the beach, stretching her arms out for better balance as the sun warmed her face. “This process is rather straightforward,” instructed Aeriel, “it only requires that you enter a relaxed, meditative state allowing for the song of the ocean to caress both your physical and spiritual body.” While Nemir could hear her mother’s words, her attention was occupied as she succumbed to the water’s lullaby, releasing some of the tension causing her muscles to ache. Her mother continued to instruct her on different methods and purposes of this activity until the arrival of Mithiel brutally forced Nemir back to reality.

“I hope you enjoyed that nap,” stated Mithiel as she swam up to meet the two women a mischievous grin plastered on her face, “because it’s only downstream from here.” Strapped to her back she carried two, white staffs engraved with Aquen symbols and swooping shapes that mimicked waves on each end. The material was unfamiliar to Nemir as it didn’t have the grains and lines found on wood nor did it have the weight of stone. “Quickly, follow me. We’re wasting daylight,” ordered Mithiel as she motioned for Nemir to follow her onto the small beach. Nemir responded quickly and pushed her way through the water, grateful that the meditation had removed some of the soreness from her muscles. She was still nervous about what the mermaid had planned. As soon has her feet exited the water, Mithiel unexpectedly propelled one of the staffs  at Nemir’s face causing her to frantically flail about in an attempt to catch the stick.

“Reflexes need improvement,” judged Mithiel as she retrieved the other weapon from her holster. Nemir secured the long pole in her hands and explored the smooth surface with her fingers, and she was barely able to reach the top of the weapon as it towered above her. “What material is this made from,” she asked.

Mithiel’s face brightened as she moved closer to Nemir conspiratorially and her voice lowered to a horse whisper, “That is made from the bones of a great Sea-Serpent”.

Nemir’s eyes widened and she gazed up at the staff with new eyes in wonder, “This is not a jest?”

“Nay, ask your mother if you don’t believe me for she was present at the time of the creature’s demise. The great serpent was slain many centuries ago by a group of Foam Maidens, your mother and I included. It was a glorious battle,” Mithiel’s eyes glazed over and her lips stretched into a slight smile, “After our victory, we discovered that the skin, scales, and bones of the creature could be fashioned into many items that would not succumb to the corroding powers of salt water. I’ve lost many a good blade to the evil red dust”.

“Could you not use Mithril to forge weapons instead since it does not rust,” asked Nemir.

Mithiel grabbed at her stomach and released a bellowing laugh so intense that it shook her entire body; Nemir, surprised by this reaction, awkwardly watched unsure of the cause. When the laughter finally subsided, the silver haired mermaid straightened and wiped under her eyes, “Oh, you clearly do not have your mother’s sense of humor. Mithril! Oh my poor sides. The only way those landlocked, rock suckers are parting with any weapon quality Mithril is if we free it from their bodies as they lay at the bottom of the ocean.”

Nemir unsure how to respond to such a statement, muttered a simple, “Oh”.

“Let’s cut the talking and get to the action. I shall begin at the beginning with grip and stance,” Mithiel walked toward Nemir and shifted her hand positioning and adjusted her foot placement.  “Good,” satisfied she retrieved her own weapon, “Now, I want you to raise your arms to stop my staff as I bring it toward you. This is a block.”

Nemir followed the instructions and successfully blocked the mermaid’s slow attack from above. The speed of these gradually increased forcing her to quicken her reaction each time. Once Mithiel was satisfied with her progress she demonstrated the correct position for an offensive thrust, which Nemir then repeated several times. This continued for quite some time with many pauses between exercises for corrections. By the time the sun had almost disappeared beyond the horizon, Nemir’s body was covered in a sheen of sweat, her arms lacked the strength to lift the staff,  and her lungs struggled to take jagged breaths. Mithril leaned casually on her weapon, her body showing no signs of distress, “Well done minnow. Well done. I’ll end your torcher… for now.” At those words, Nemir let her body collapse gracelessly to the sand, her limbs sprawled about her like the arms of a starfish. Aeriel approached her daughter’s still body and gracefully lowered herself down by her head, “I’m afraid you won’t have much time to rest, Laegwen will be arriving soon.” Nemir could only muster enough energy to reply with a groan.

“Don’t despair little minnow, Laegwen will probably teach you the secret language of otters or some such nonsense,” said Mithiel as she gathered Nemir’s discarded weapon from the sand.

“One should never underestimate the gallantry of otters,” responded a quiet voice that materialize from the darkness. If Nemir’s body was capable of movement, she would have jump with surprise, but the other two mermaids didn’t seem startled by Laegwen’s sudden arrival.

“You only say such things because you find their appearance enduring,” responded Mithiel with a roll of her eyes.         

“Thank you for coming,” greeted Aeriel as she met her sister with a hug, “I’m afraid Mithiel, in her typical fashion, has destroyed the opposition.”

“Well, that certainly makes my task a little more difficult, but fortunately my lesson does not depend on physical strength,” said Laegwen as she took a seat next to Nemir, giving her a sympathetic look, “But I must ask that you kneel with me.”

An unpleasant noise escaped Nemir’s lips as she tried to force her upper body to lift off the sand, and . after a long struggle she finally managed to mirror Laegwen’s position. The tide was rising and the small strip of sand was gradually being overcome by the incoming water. Nemir could feel the gentle licking of the water on her legs as the waves merged with the shore, and she used this to help focus her exhausted mind. “Tonight, we shall study the most basic type of magic for our people,” began Laegwen as she gently grasped Nemir’s hand, “the ability to summon mist or fog for the purpose of concealment is gifted to all of us. I shall demonstrate.” Her emerald eyes disappeared behind her lids and she began to quietly hum a simple tune, in moments Nemir spotted a white mist crawl from the surface of the ocean and spread along the sand. It surrounded their joined bodies and formed a thick, hazy barrier which caused a slight tingling upon her skin. Laegwen ceased her humming and met Nemir’s eyes, “Tonight I  want you to focus on experiencing the effects of the spell. The mist can’t be used to blind the eyes of other Oaritsi, and with a little focus you can look past its effects.”

 

Nemir inhaled a deep breath and let the smell of salt and brine anchor her mind before gazing into the hazy depths that surrounded her. She aimed her focus at a singular spot, searching for any weakness and willed the mist to separate.  Gradually the opaque film thinned enough that Nemir could see her mother and the waves before her. The fog, however, had not entirely dissipated for she could still see faint wisps moving around them. “Well done,” congratulated Laegwen with a gentle smile, “ I think that is enough for tonight. I can tell that  today has been draining for you,” her eyes shifted over to Mithiel accusingly, “Once your stamina increases we will increase the length of our sessions”. 

 

A long sigh escaped Nemir as she let her body sag slightly; she wanted nothing more than to collapse and let the darkness of sleep claim her.  She doubted she even had the energy to swim home and even contemplated sleeping on the beach before realizing her mother would never agree to such an arrangement. “Let’s go home,” she pleaded to her mother who simply nodded and guided  her to the water. 

 

“ You did well today,” Aeriel congratulated her daughter once they reached the beach connected to their hom e. 

 

“I know I certainly don’t feel well,” grumbled Nemir as she stumbled toward the path, thoughts of sleep fueling her. She almost collapsed with despair when she reached the ladder that led to her loft, but pushed through one step at a time. Once she reached the top, her body toppled like a downed tree onto her bed and she knew no more. 


	6. Consequences

The following weeks were a huge adjustment for Nemir, as she continued her training routine with the three Foam Maidens. Each day ended in exhaustion and  pain, mostly due to Mithiel’s aggressive training technique. The woman was not known for pulling punches and this resulted in many bruises along her hands, arms, and butt. She was showing some progress with her staff, but she sometimes wondered if all this frustration would lead to anything truly beneficial. The only reprieve she received during the week was during the two days Ada was home from the boats.

 In anticipation of meeting Mithiel for sparing later that day, Nemir bound her chest and dressed in gray leggings and a sleeveless blue tunic before traveling to the kitchen. “Morning Naneth,”  greeted Nemir as she grabbed a freshly baked roll from a basket on the table.

 “Oh Nemir, I’m glad you’re up. I need you to run an errand for me,” her mother shifted the large laundry sack on her hip.“I want to start on this laundry, but there are a few items I need picked up from the market. Could you do this for me.”

 “I get to skip laundry day? Of course I’ll go!” said Nemir as crumbs escaped her mouth. .

 “Thank you dear. There is a list and coin pouch on the table, and you might want to adjust your attire before you leave,” instructed her mother as she exited the cottage with the bag.

 Nemir looked down at her leggings and weighed the consequences of appearing in town wearing men’s clothing. She wanted to avoid the attentions of busybodies, but she also didn’t want to expend the effort to changing just for their sakes. She finally settled on using a long hooded cloak with slits in the sides for her arms, this allowed for the front to be partially  buttoned concealing most of her outfit. After fetching the list and a basket to carry supplies, she began the long walk to the small town market.

 The weather was pleasant as a cool sea breeze prevented her from becoming too hot under the cape, and a few well placed clouds guarded her from harsh rays. She surprisingly enjoyed the walk and the outline of  buildings eventually came into view. While she had visited with her mother several times, this was her first time attending the market alone and a small tickling of nerves formed in her stomach. “Don’t be a child,” Nemir scolded herself mentally, “ If you can survive Mithiel, you can certainly face a few nasty old ladies.”  Forcing her shoulders straight and head erect, she marched purposely toward the market.

 There were about 15 stalls spread about the center of the village, and Nemir was surprised at the sizable crowd that had formed around each one. She supposed the first crop of the season had arrived so everyone was vying for fresh food after a winter of salted fish. After quickly reviewing the list, she made her way to the first vendor which required her to weave through groups of people.

 “Good Morning Miss Garavel,” greeted Nemir with a wave as she wedged to the front of the wooden display.

 “Nemir! You look more beautiful each time I see you. Your mother here?” an older lady with silver hair braided into a crown and friendly green eyes hobbled out from behind the stall and embraced the teenager.

 Nemir bent down to return the embrace, “No, she is busy with laundry today so I’m on my own.”

 “Well I suppose you are certainly old enough now. Ulmo’s beard, the older I become the faster time seems to fly right by me,” said Miss Garavel before returning to her stool behind her counter. “What does your mother need today?”

 “She was hoping to have some of your famous tomatoes for a stew this evening,” replied Nemir as she scanned over the produce, “and maybe a couple mushrooms”.

 “Well I certainly can help you there missy. I’m just glad you stopped by early today because everything has been flying off the shelves. People are tired of winter stores.” elderly woman waved Nemir around to the back of the stall before reaching down and retrieving produce from in a bin by her feet, “Here, these are the best ones I save to people I like.”

 Nemir grinned, “Thank you so much Miss Garavel.” She placed the tomatoes and mushrooms into her basket and pressed some coin into her wrinkled hands.

 “Give your mother a hug from me,” said the old lady before turning to face the newest customer.

 Nemir casually floated from booth to booth, observing the goods that were for sale and purchasing the different items on the list. She was admiring a particularly beautiful bracelet made from woven stone beads when a loud, sharp voice startled her, “Witch!”. Nemir spun to find the source standing on the far side of the market. It was the unpleasant blond boy from the boat pointing  accusingly in her direction, an angry scowl twisting his face. Her body froze unsure how to respond. Ignore him? Run and hide? Confront him? The vendor at the stall was starting to give her uncertain looks, so she pulled the hood over her face and tried to disappear into the crowd. Her escape was short lived as a claw dug deep into her shoulder and ripping the hood from her head.

 Nemir turned to face her attacker, suddenly wishing she had her quarterstaff. “You! I should have known!” wailed Mrs. Bruiwen, a stocky middle aged women with graying hair and cold dark eyes. She possessed  an unflattering reputation in the village for being unpleasant and contrary to everyone, and would loudly voice her complaints to the nearest audience. She was the leader of the group of women who often judged and gossiped about Aeriel and Nemir when they visited the village. Nemir hated her.

 “My poor Nimmeth told me about how you tried to drown him, you harpy!” screamed Mrs. Bruiwen causing the entire market to focus on the conflict.

 “I...I...I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” stuttered Nemir as she attempted to back away from the furious woman, but the gathering crowd blocked her way.

 “Lies! Lies! I always knew there was something strange about you and your mother,” the woman slowly stalked the scared girl thrusting her finger accusingly into her chest.  “With your odd colored hair, pale skin, and slutty outfits. Now I know. You’re here to seduce our young men and drown them! Siren! Sea Witch! Minx!” with each name the angry woman jammed a sharp finder in Nemir’s chest forcing her back.

 “Tis true!” exclaimed Nimmon as he joined the circle in the middle of the crowd. “She tried to use her beauty to lure me into the waves, but I resisted her cruel spell.”

 It took all of Nemir’s composure not to respond with a sarcastic role of her eyes. She was certain she could easily defeat him without the use of  magic as she observed his scrawny arms and narrow shoulders. “As I said before, you are mistaken,” she insisted again, but with more confidence hoping to defuse the situation, “Sounds like a fish story to me.”

 “Are you calming by son a liar?!” exclaimed Mrs. Bruiwen as her eyes bulging from her head.

 “I’m saying, he may have exaggerated his story to hide an embarrassing accident. Perhaps a large fish pulled him from the boat. Maybe he tripped on his own net. I don’t know.” Nemir was trying to stay calm, but doubted anything she said would cause Bruiwen to back down. To do so would make her and her son look foolish in the eyes of the villagers. She needed to focus on convincing the crowd to prevent a mob situation from forming.     

 “Tripped on a net? I’m not a dunce! You pulled me in the water after I...” bellowed Nimmon clenching his fists.

 “After you did what Nimmon?” challenged Nemir with a glare.

 “It doesn’t matter,” he replied, crossing his arms with a sudden boost of confidence, “I have a witness.” Nemir’s eyes widened as she quickly inhaled a short breath, she had forgotten about the dark haired young man. “My cousin, Morfindir, was with me. Where is he?”

 There was a shifting in the crowd as people searched for the missing witness. After a few moments, the tall, dark youth was forced forward by the crowd. As he stumbled into the opening, he meet Nemir’s eyes and seemed shocked to see her there. “Cousin,” greeted Nimmon with a slap on the back, “Please tell these fine people about how this creature tried to drown me.”

 Morfindir shifted his gaze from his cousin back to the scared young lady. Nemir tried to plead with him using only eyes as she tightly gripped her basket handle till her knuckles turned white. He circled her slowly, making of show of examining her appearance before returning to his cousin’s side. “Well, Nimmon, I must say she is certainly more beautiful than the slimy thing that pulled you overboard.”

 “What?” Nimmon spun to face his cousin, his face tight with shock. “Now is not the time to jest! We have her.”

 “The creature responsible for my cousin’s unfortunate accident was certainly not mystical in nature. I’m afraid his exaggerations have gotten out of hand due to spending too much time in the tavern.” Morfindir projected his voice at the crowd, “ Nothing to see here, go about your business.”

 “You bastard!” Nimmon lunged for him, but Morfindir easily dodged the attack, “You make a of fool of me.”

 “No, Nim,” said Morfindir with a fierce look that gave his cousin pause, “You do a great job of doing that yourself. Aunt Bruiwen I suggest you get your son before he does something he regrets.”

 Bruiwen sent a death glare at Nemir, but she knew the battle was done for now.“Come Nimmon, it seams blood is not thicker than water. This isn’t over…” the couple slunked away to cause trouble another day.

 Nemir let a long sigh of relief escape her as the crowd began to disperse, but was surprised when Morfindir approached her. “It might be best if you leave now. My Aunt has many connections in this town and I don’t trust her not to retaliate if given the opportunity.” He extended his arm to her, “Let me walk you home. It will be safer that way.”

 Well this was certainly not was she expected, and she gazed at his arm as if it had teeth. “If you accept, it might help quell any doubts,” he suggested.

 “Or convince them I  enchanted you with my dark magic,” she countered.

 “Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t,” he chuckled, “for safety's sake, please allow me.”

 “Fine,” Nemir hooked her arm around his and was surprised at the firm muscle she found there. She found herself suddenly wishing she had replaced her hood to hide any embarrassing blushing. Nemir received some odd and hostel looks as they left the village, but no one tried to stop them. She wasn’t able to breath freely until they gained a little distance, but she wasn’t sure how to deal with the situation she had attached herself to.

 “Why did you lie for me?” she asked trying to keep her voice steady. She had little experience interacting with people her own age, especially handsome young men, and she was feeling awkward.

 He seemed to ponder his answer for a moment,” Well…for one, my cousin is a spoiled, idiot who caused his own problem. If he hadn’t tried to attack you, you never would have retaliated. Though I don’t approve of your methods.”

 “He tried to kill me!” countered Nemir.

 “And you almost let him drown,” stated Morfindir with a disapproving tone.

  She wasn’t proud of her actions that day and the unexpected flash of temper had scared her. For a moment, his death seemed justified and she was going to watch it happen. “You could have jumped in to save him if you were that concerned, “ she challenged.

 At this, he suddenly looked a little embarrassed, “Uh… actually, I couldn’t have.”

 Nemir gasped, “No, you can’t swim either?” and she began to laugh. “How is that even possible?”

 “Keeping my head above water is the extent of my abilities ,” he muttered, “a lot of the men at the docks can’t swim.”

 “That’s just ridiculous. Do you have a death wish?” she asked.  

 “It’s really not  an issue. If a man falls overboard, we simply toss them a rope and pull them back,” Morfindir explained.

 Nemir shorted, “I mean no offence, but I wouldn’t trust my life in the hands of someone like your cousin.”

 “Not all of us are born with fins,” He replied sulkily.

 “Neither was I, but I learned,” she teased with a grin, becoming more comfortable in his presents. The conversation lulled a bit, so Nemir decided to compare the purchased items in her basket to the items written on her list since she was unable to finish due to the interruption. She gently freed her arm and searched for the paper in her dress pocket. Morfindir watched curiously as she scanned over the paper, “What’s that?” he asked, “An evil spell to turn me into an eel?”

 “Ha. Ha. Very funny,” she replied dryly still looking down at her paper, “It’s just the list of supplies my Naneth gave me. I didn’t get to finish it before getting run out of town,”

 “What does that say,” he asked, pointing to the top word.

 Nemir gave him a questioning look, “Tomato…”.

 “How about this one?” he motioned to the second item.

 “Mushrooms...,” she answered slowly uncertain of his motives. Was he testing her?

 “Huh,” he grunted,“Could you show me how to spell my name? I’ve never seen it written down before.”

 Nemir was surprised by this, “You can’t read?”

 “Nope. Never had anyone to teach me,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

 “Is this a common thing?” She asked confused.

 “Oh there are 2 or 3 people in the richer families can a little, but that’s about it. Never really understood the need to learn anyway, reading doesn’t help you catch fish,” he explained.

 “I just always assumed that everyone learned. Naneth taught me when I was young, and Ada has a book of songs he likes to perform from,” said Nemir trying to absorb this eye opening information.

 “Reavor can read? That explains how that weasel Lore was never able overcharge him. You’re father has helped people save many a coin from that conniving miser, myself included,” he said eyebrows raised as the dots connected.

 “See, it has a useful purpose after all,”  stated Nemir feeling justified.

 As they climbed to the top of a small, grassy hill, Nemir could see her home sitting at the end of the slope. She was dreading telling her parents about the disastrous situation that occurred at the market, and her mother would be furious she didn’t inform her about the incident with the cousins sooner. She found her body reluctant to finish the short journey home, and seriously considered living with  Laegwen and the otters.

She turned to face Morfindir, “Thank you for saving me from your crazy Aunt. If it wasn’t for you, I might be at the mercy of an angry mob.”

 “It was the least I could do after my cousin tried to kill you,” he replied with a smile.

 Nemir was surprised to discover that she felt reluctant to leave his company. It has been nice to talk with someone her own age who didn’t seem intimidated by her otherness.  Maybe this is what it’s like to have a friend? She wanted a reason to see him again. “I feel as if I’m still in your debt. I’m sure your relatives will make your life miserable for making fools of them. What if I teach you how to swim to settle my debt?”

 Morfindir seemed slightly taken aback by her suggestion, “Uh, that is certainly an interesting proposal. The fact that I’m even considering entering the water with a Foam Maiden, just proves how crazy I really am.”

 “If I didn’t drown your troll of a cousin, I’m certainly not going to harm you,” challenged Nemir crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow, “unless you’re just scared of facing the water.”

 “Hardly, I practically live on these waters,” he boasted with a puff of his chest.

 “Yes, but you won’t live long IN these waters if you don’t accept my offer,” she commented.

 “You make a convincing argument. I accept your offer Sea Maiden,” and he extended his arm out to Nemir which she grasped to signify their agreement.

 “Meet me on the shore just past my home at noon on Highday, and I’ll start your first lesson,” instructed Nemir.

 “Aye, Aye Captain,” Morfindir answered with an enthusiastic mock salute before marching back to the village.

 A giggle escaped Nemir’s lips as she witnessed the ridiculous display, but her joy was short lived for she knew what waited for her at home. She proceeded toward her doom, each step feeling as if boulders had been strapped to her feet. She eventually reached the painted door, and sent a short prayer to Ulmo before reaching for the latch.


	7. Swimming Lessons

“How could you have kept this from me!,“ Nermir’s body tried to shrink further into the chair as her mother paced back and forth, her fists clenched.“If I had known I might have prevented this escalation.”  

“I’m sorry Naneth,” whispered Nemir for the 10th time, “I...I didn’t think…”

“That’s the problem,” interrupted Aeriel her words crisp with frustration, “we have lived a peaceful life here, sheltered from the cruelty of man, but you don’t seem to understand the threat they can pose. Perhaps that is my fault for not instilling caution into you sooner.”

“Nimmon best avoid me in the future, or I might toss him overboard myself,” added Reavor who had stayed quiet during most of the exchange as he stared into the hearth, brow furrowed and hands firmly clasped. “Morfindir is a good lad. He took a big risk opposing his family for you.” “Yes, without him speaking on your behalf… I hate to imagine what could have happened,” Aeriel walked over to her daughter and enveloped her in a hug. “If they had harmed you, I would make sure they lived to regret it.” The cold rage in her mother’s voice caused a shiver to travel through Nemir, knowing that the commanding power her mother possessed made the threat anything but empty.

“It will probably be best if you and Nemir avoid Fish Farm for a while, until things settle down,” suggested Reavor. “I will do my best to defuse the situation down at the docks. Most of the men there don’t like Nimmon or his mother so it shouldn't be too difficult.”

“And what am I supposed to do if we need supplies? Wait till you have a free moment to fetch them for me? I won’t give that horrid woman the satisfaction,” exclaimed Aeriel as her fist landed heavily on the wooden table causing it to shake. “Besides, if we avoid the town, people will believe it is because we have something to hide.”

“Are you sure that is wise my love,” asked Reavor turning from the fire to face his wife, “You said yourself the situation could turn dangerous.”

“Certain precautions will have to be made,” the determined look in her mother’s eyes made Nemir think of the Blue Fire blade stored in the other room. Her mother only played the part of the simple fisherman’s wife, but occasionally the persona slipped away revealing the ancient warrior underneath. “These big fish in this small pond best not forget that a shark shares their waters.”

Reavor simply nodded in agreement, “I only ask that you both avoid attention for a while. If reports of tall maidens sparing on the beach become known, won’t be long before fingers get pointed in your direction.”

“You speak truth husband. Nemir, all training will be a fully nocturnal event for the time being,” she said and then placed a gentle kiss upon her daughter’s brow. “ I love you Nemir, and I hope this lesson will instill in you the importance of caution.”

Reavor embraced his daughter in a comforting hug, “You have my permission to use your new skills on Nimmon if needed. Good night my Limelle (little fish).” The couple exited the kitchen to retired, leaving Nemir alone with the flames.

She gazed into the ever shifting flickers of red, orange, and white for an unknown amount of time. The day’s events played out in her mind, and she found herself imagining different scenarios. Sometimes she defeated Nimmon and Mrs.Bruiwen with a quick tongue and witt, winning over the crowd as they laughed at the embarrassed couple. Other times, Morfindir failed to appear and the crowd angrily closed in around her as Mrs. Bruiwen clawed at her face and chest leaving streaks of red. Either way, Nemir knew that sleep would be avoiding her tonight, and she didn’t feel the typical pull to travel down to the ocean shore. By the flames, she stayed until her mother found her slumped asleep in the chair early the next morning before dawn. “Come dear, let’s get you into a proper bed,” said  Aeriel as she guided her half conscious daughter up into the loft.

____________

The shift in the training schedule wasn’t a huge adjustment for Nemir, since she preferred working into the night and waking late the next day. The largest issue she now faced was fighting Mithiel with limited light. While Nemir’s vision wasn’t hindered by darkness, the fierce Foam Maiden still found a way to use it to her advantage. This resulted in Nemir receiving a rather mean bruise on her thigh due to her failing to block an attack from the shadows.

“Curse that silver haired harpy,” thought Nemir as she rubbed her tender leg, the wound still fresh from the night before. The downward walk toward the beach was causing her muscles to object to the movement, and she used her quarterstaff to help support her weight. She should be resting, but she had promised to meet Morfindir at noon for his first swim lesson, and hoped the salt water would help sooth her bruise. Since she usually swam in the nude, Nemir was unsure of what attire would be appropriate for this occasion, but settled on some knee length leggings and sleeveless undershirt. She spotted the dark haired, young man standing by the dunes far from the waves and called out a greeting, “Morfindir!” and waved to get his attention.

He looked up at the sound of his name and spotted Nemir walking toward him carrying a large, white staff. “Where are your clothes?” he gasped as a blush formed on his cheeks, and he quickly turned his back to her.  

“Well on my body of course!” replied Nemir- looking down at her attire.

“You seem to have forgotten a few important pieces,” replied Morfindir still refusing to look at her.

“Did you expect me to teach you in a full dress and petticoats?” mocked Nemir. “I may not be able to drown, but I have no intention of dealing with wet, heavy, and cumbersome skirts. It’s impractical. Now turn around and stop pretending you’ve never seen legs before.”

Morfindir slowly turned around. His head kept stiffly upward and his eyes stuck firmly to her face. Nemir just rolled her eyes and motioned for him to follow her as she walked up the shore. His long legs soon caught up with her and she couldn't help but smile at the red tinge that still stained his cheeks.

“Where are we going,” he asked still avoiding her direction, but choosing to look straight ahead instead.

“There is a small lagoon down a way that is protected from the waves by a sandbar. The water is calm there and better for swimming,” exclaimed Nemir.

“What about the staff?” he asked gazing up at weapon, “I hope you don’t plan on using it as a teaching tool.”

“Oh, no. I leave the beatings to my aunt. Naneth insists that I carry it everywhere for protection ever since the nasty business with your cousin,” she divulged.

Morfindir considered this for a moment, “Are you proficient?” he finally asked curiously.

“Depends on who you ask,” replied Nemir with a grin while giving the staff a twirl above her head.

He just shook his head in wonder as he stared at the female before him. The lagoon was edged by rocks on either side, but the middle homed a small patch of sand that led down into the clear, calm water. The couple easily waded through the shallows to reach the small beach.

“The water only reaches my shoulders at its deepest point, so if you feel overwhelmed you can easily stand,” lectured Nemir motioning to the water with a wave of her hand. “You can place your shirt on that rock over there.”

“My shirt?” Morfindir clutched the cloth to his body as his eyes grew wide.

“Yes, your shirt,” emphasized Nemir with a cross of her arms, “It will only hinder you, and I won’t save you if you get tangled in it.”

“If you insist,” he reluctantly agreed as he unlaced the collar and pulled the fabric over this head. His skin was golden kissed from working in the sun and his muscular chest looked as if it had been carved. Nemir couldn’t help but admire his toned body as he turned to place his top on the rocks, and heat flood her face. She quickly relocated her gaze to avoid embarrassment and tried to focus on the task at hand. She jammed one end of her staff securely into the sand for safekeeping before walking toward the water.

“Follow me,” she said stepping into the water without turning back to look at the shirtless man behind her. She heard the splashing of his steps as she continued further into the lagoon, finally stopping when the height of the water reached a little above her waist. “This seems like a suitable spot,” she turned to face Morfindir and was slightly startled by his closeness as his wide shoulders dominated her vision. “Uh…” she stuttered and took a small step back to better see his face, “...this should be deep enough.”

“Great,” he smiled, “how should we proceed?”

Nemir gathered herself, “I’m going to start with a basic float. I’ll demonstrate.” She lowered her body down into the water, took a deep breath, and lifted her feet while leaning backward. Her body stayed suspended at the surface and bobbed gently with the rocking of the water, “See, it’s simple enough.”

Morfindir still seemed uncertain as his lips tightened and brows furrowed. “I’ll help support you, till you find your balance,” encouraged Nemir with a smile. He nodded and followed her example till his body lay  upon the water, but he struggled to stay surfaced so she placed her palms under his body to help stabilize him. His muscles tightened at her touch, but he slowly relaxed as the water rocked his body, “This is surprisingly pleasant.”

 “I’m going to remove my hands now,” Nemir slowly slipped away and his body remained surfaced and she smiled, “You’re a fast learner.”

" I know,” he responded with a cocky grin and she responded with a roll of her eyes.

 “Well perhaps you need more of a challenge,” said Nemir matching his grin, “kick your legs”.

 “That sounds easy enough,” he forcefully moved his legs, but the sudden force caused him to lose balance and sink into the water. He quickly gained his feet, coughing out the water that flooded through his nose and mouth. Nemir couldn’t restrain the laugh that escaped her, and Morfindir answered with only a glare since his lungs were still trying to function. “Never underestimate the water or you’ll end up inhaling it more often,” informed Nemir.

 “Can I request a new teacher?” he asked after the coughing subsided.

 “Nope!” stated Nemir, “now let’s try that again.”

 The lesson continued smoothly and Morfindir eventually managed to move his body slowly through the water with small, gentle movements of his legs. Nemir decided this was a good place to stop for the day and led the way toward the shore. The couple lay reclined on the sand. letting the warm rays dry their clothing. “Well, you survived your first lesson, congratulations.” complemented Nemir.

 “I still think you were trying to drown me at certain points,” teased Morfindir.

 “Old habits and all that,” answered Nemir with a grin. A comfortable silence fell upon them as they watched small birds scurry across the sand and listened to the sound water lap the shore. Nemir spotted a stick not far from her and an idea sprouted into her mind. Stretching out, she retrieved it and began drawing lines in the sand. Morfindir watched curiously as she completed her work, “What are you doing?”

 “Come take a look,” she motioned for him to move closer and he obliged. Nemir then started pointing at the different symbols in the sand, “M. O. R. F. I. N D. I. R. Morfindir.” she stated as she moved from one letter to the next.

 “This is my name? He asked in amazement.

 ”You said you wanted to know what it looked like,” explained Nemir as she handed the stick to Morfindir, “ Here, try to copy the letters,”.

 He grabbed the stick and hesitantly placed it under the first letter, “M,” he stated as he attempted to copy Nemir’s work. He drew two parallel lines and connected them with a V shape before turning to her for approval.

 “Correct!” she congratulated with a large smile, “now O.”

 Morfindir continued to copy his name while voicing each letter as he went along until he had a several lines written under Nemir’s original. As he progressed the lettering became more uniformed and his movements  smooth and natural.

 “I think you’ve got it down perfectly,” praised Nemir with a clap of her hands.

 Morfindir’s chest slightly puffed with pride and a large grin split his face at her words, “Maybe all those nobles aren't so smart after all.  That wasn’t too hard.”

 Nemir just rolled her eyes, “Well, if you mastered that so quickly, let’s move to something more advanced.”  She then proceeded to clear the sand with her foot and began to transcribe the entire alphabet, speaking each letter out loud as she wrote it. Once finished she handed the stick back to Morfinder who was looking less confident, but proceeded to copy her strokes anyway. His efforts were efficient if not perfect, and eventually managed several lines of letters that took up most of the beach.

 “I think that is enough for the day,” said Nemir looking at the position of the sun.

 “I didn’t realize how much time had gone by,” replied Morfindir as he gathered his shirt and shoes from the rock, “I should have been back before now.”

 “They say time flies when you’re having fun,” added Nemir.

 “I hope this isn’t what you consider fun,” he challenged goodnaturedly, “I personally blame the company.”

 “I don’t know if you are complimenting me or yourself,” she teased.

 “Can’t it be both?” he replied, sending a smile over his shoulder as he made his way back to the main shore. Nemir just shook her head and chuckled before claiming her staff and following suit. It didn’t take long for them to reach the beach and he turned to face her before leaving, “Thank you for offering this lesson to me.”

 “It’s the least I could do after the risk you took for me at the market,” insisted Nemir, “Will you be able to meet me again a week from now? Same time?”

 “That shouldn’t be an issue. We will just have to keep a better eye on the time,” he said as he laced the cords of his boots.

 “Agreed,” said Nemir before giving a small wave goodbye to Morfindir as he rushed to the path leading back to the village. He turned once he reached the crest of the hill and answered with a salute before disappearing from her vision.

________

  
Morfindir sat at his favorite table in the only tavern in town, The Dancing Fish, to enjoy a pint after a long day of fishing and lessons with Nemir. He had finished his sixth week with her today, and she had him practice using his arms and legs in conjunction to pull his body through the water. This was rather straightforward, but the largest challenge was keeping his head down in the water until he needed a breath. He didn’t quite understand the purpose of this, but Nemir insisted it was necessary so he tried even though he got a nose full of water most of the time. Afterward, they had continued his reading lessons, but the progress was slower then he would have liked.

 The whole situation still seemed unbelievable whenever he thought about it, but Nemir never mocked his ignorance. He found himself genuinely enjoying her company, and looking forward to their weekly lessons. She was unlike any person he had ever met and wished the people in the village could appreciate her otherness even if they didn’t understand it. Even he didn’t understand it completely, but he didn’t let that scare him. He was startled from his thoughts when the main door was forcefully opened causing it to collide with the wall with a loud ‘crash’.

 “Damn,” cursed Morfindir under his breath as his unpleasant cousin sauntered into the tavern and up to the owner behind the bar. He had managed to avoid Nimmon since their confrontation, but knew his luck would run out eventually. Fish Farm was such a small community.

 “You’re a hard man to find Morfindir,” greeted Nimmon his voice containing a false sweetness as he and approached.

“I’ve been busy,” grunted Morfindir before downing his ale.

 “So I’ve heard,” Nimmon took the seat across from him and placed two pints on the table.

 “What do you want?” he grumbled, glaring at the drink before him as if it was poisoned.

 “Want?” the blond man gasped in exaggerated shock, “Can’t I enjoy a fine ale with my cousin? We are practically brothers after all.”

 Morfindir snorted, “Nim, cut the crap. You’ve hated me since the moment your father brought me home.”

 “Tis true I was jealous of you at first, but I was young and foolish,” he replied before taking a large drink.

 “Not much has changed then,” snapped Morfindir causing the friendly personal to immediately fall from Nimmon’s face.

 “You always did think you were better than me,” he sneered, “You made a fool of me at the market to support your own ego.”

“That had nothing to do with ego. I had to stop you from inciting a riot against an innocent girl,” challenged Morfindir his fist tightening.

“Innocent!” Nimmon erupted into laughter. “If you think that creature is innocent, you’re a larger fool then I thought. She must be slowly warping your mind during your weekly meetings”

Morfindir sat stunned for a moment, he had told no one about his arrangement with Nemir. How could he have found out? “How did you...?”

 “Please,” he scoffed, “nothing is secret in this muddle puddle of a village, and you two aren’t exactly inconspicuous meeting in broad daylight. She must reward you well for betraying your family. Tell me, how does she feel? I bet that luminous skin is soft like the finest silk.” He was suddenly silenced by a fist colliding with his face.

“You bastard!” Morfindir lifted Nimmon’s body from the chair. “Don’t you dare talk about her that way. If you as much as look at her, I’ll make you regret it.” He released the shirt, letting him collapse into the ground.

“That’s the difference between you and I cousin. I don’t need muscles to get what I want,” even with a nasty bruise forming around his eye and a split lip, Nimmon still managed to have a triumphant grin upon his face. Morfindir stormed out of the tavern before his temper made him do something he would regret. He was surprised to find 3 tall, muscular men standing outside of the tavern entrance, but when he tried to move past  they formed a wall of flesh to block his way.

 “My quarrel isn't with you,” stated Morfindir as he tried again to maneuver around the men.

 “That’s where you’re wrong boy,” challenged one of the men. He was large and imposing with scatterings of battle scars and graying hair. He lunged for Morfindir, firmly grasping his shoulders and pulling him forward into a lifted knee. Morfindir gasped as all the air was forced from his lungs, crouching down he gasped for air but no would enter. Another of the men lifted their fists and brought them down upon his back forcing him to fall flat upon the ground, face in the dirt.

 “Well look how the mighty have fallen,” he heard his cousin's voice above him, but as he tried to lift his body a mighty kick sent him back down. He would be lucky if a rib wasn’t broken.

 “Tie him up, and take him to the boat,” ordered Nimmon.

 Though his face was still forced downward, Morfindir could hear the smile on the bastard’s face. “I’m going to make sure you regret this, you worthless, miserable” another kick cut his promise short.

 “I don’t think you’re in a position to be making threats, dear cousin,” spat Nimmon, “Move him, Now!”

 Morfindir’s arms were wrenched back and secured with a rough rope, before being forced to his feet. “This,” sneered a thug as he unsheathed a knife blade, “is to ensure you  cooperate. If not, we have orders to finish you. Understand?” The young man reluctantly nodded and was lead forcefully to the docs,  each step causing his left rib to scream in pain.

 The sun was gone, but they refused to light torches causing Morfindir to stumble several times as they walked in the darkness. Nimmon would take pleasure in this and pushed him forward, his bound hands unable to catch his body as it tumbled along the ground. It wasn’t until they reached the boats that they risked using light to safely untie and board the boat. Nimmon had chosen one of the larger ships used for deeper waters, and the nets that were usually stored away at the end of each day sat in the hule.

 “What are you planning Nim?” asked Morfindir as they secured his wrists to the bow.

 “Well, I have some bait, so I figured it was a good time to go fishing,” he responded with a wild gleam in his eye that was only intensified by the flickering flame.


	8. Danger

“Well, I have some bait, so I thought I would go fishing,” he responded with a wild gleam in his eye that was only intensified by the flickering flame. 

“You’re mad,” stated Morfindir stunned by this revelation, “You seriously think she would risk capture for me? She might not even know we’re here.”

“You are the only person other than Reavor to interact with either of those sirens. That has to mean something,” challenged Nimmon as his hired henchmen maneuvered the ship farther out into the bay. The various torch lights placed around the ship shone brightly in the darkness and reflected on the black mirror of the water. Morfindir assumed it was an attempt to gain Nemir’s attention, but wasn’t sure if he wanted them to succeed or not. He never before thought his cousin capable of murder, but Nim’s recent actions was causing his resolve to quickly dissolve. 

“Come out, Come out, wherever you are!” taunted Nimmon, his body leaning over the water. The ship finally stopped when they reached a collection of rocks that was slowly being hidden by the rising tide. Morfindir was familiar with the grouping as it was responsible for damaging many ships who collided with the submerged rocks. 

“Secure him to the stones, Lorn,” ordered Nimmon as he motioned to the graying man who confronted Morfindir at the tavern. 

“Nim, the tide is coming in, and those will be underwater within the hour,” Morfindir was beginning to panic and he struggled against his restraints. 

“If the sea witch appears, you have nothing to worry about. If she doesn’t, your drowned body found on the shore will be rather damning. It shouldn’t be hard to convince the public that your death was caused by fraternizing with sea monsters. Either way I have my proof,” explained Nimmon with a disturbing amount of calmness. 

Morfindir was stunned by this revelation, “You would shed blood because of a moment of embarrassment. You would be a kinslayer.” 

“I don’t expect you to understand,” replied Nimmon as Lorn pushed him over the side of the boat with a violent splash. He barely managed to hold a breath before his body contacted the water and sank into the wet void, the lack of light confusing his sense of direction. Using Nemir’s teaching, he allowed the air in his  body to direct him to the surface and then kicked his legs to break through. His arms were still bound and when he surfaced he saw Lorn holding the tether, the grizzled man used the rope to drag him over to the collection of rocks. With the addition of a few more lengths, Morfindir was firmly secured much to his dismay. The water already covered most of his chest.

“I don’t suppose you would be willing to call for help?” asked Nimmon feeling quite confident about his plan. Morfindir replied only with a murderous glare. “ Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug, “Though I wonder if your sense of honor will fade once that water gets closer.” 

______________________________

Nemir sat cross legged on the sand across from her mother, intently staring at the small puddle of  sea water cupped in her hands. In her mind, she envisioned a simple sphere, and tried to project this image upon the water in hopes it would obey her will. Aeriel sat across from her daughter demonstrating as she suspended the water above her palm, forcing it to hold a form. 

“I’ve been staring at this water for an hour Naneth, and I haven’t managed to make it even ripple,” sighed Nemir with frustration as she let the water fall from her hands. 

“It seems we don’t share all the same gifts,” replied her mother as she juggled the sphere in her hand. “We are all blessed with our own set of talents, and you will discover the extent of yours in time.”

“It’s more exciting that way,” interjected Mithiel with a friendly but firm pat on Nemir’s shoulder. 

“Not sure I agree….” Nemir paused when she spotted a strange light in the darkness, “what is that out on the water?” 

The three Foam Maidens turned to face the bay. “Well that is something you don’t see everyday,” observed Mithiel. 

“Do men typically use that many torches at night?” asked  Laegwen, “I know their vision is limited, but that seems a bit excessive.” 

Aeriel furrowed her brow as she examined the large boat surrounded by fire, “This is no fishing practice I know of…”. 

“I hear a voice carried over the water, “ Nemir took a few steps toward the water, straining her ears, “It sounds like...someone is yelling….My Name!” She turned to face her mother, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. 

“ Laegwen , scout the boat,” ordered Aeriel her casual demeanor easily shifting to one of authority. With a swift nod Laegwen strided into the waves,  her skin shifted to mirror the color of the ebony water as she disappeared seamlessly into the night. Mithiel, who was not used to waiting, vibrated with restrained energy as she marched up and down the beach, blade in hand. Aeriel stood on the water’s edge, still as a statue as she gazed out at the orange flame intensified by the reflection of the calm bay. Nemir nervously grasped her staff and tried to fight the uneasiness growing in her gut, as the air around her electrified like a brewing storm.

After a few minutes, Laegwen exited the water, and as she did her skin returned to a lustrous shade of pale cream. “The boat is manned by four men, but there is a fifth who has been tied to rocks, his face is barely above the water as the tide rises. The man called Nimmon seems to be in command and he is the one calling for Nemir.”

“What is the name of the man on the rocks?” questioned Nemir her heart tight in her chest. 

“The blond one called him Morfindir,” she reported, “Do these names mean something to you?”

“That spineless, bastard!” growled Nemir as her grip tightened around the bone staff in anger, “I’m going to end him this time.”

‘No,” commanded Aeriel, “You will focus on releasing Morfindir and getting to safety without being detected. Leave Nimmon and his men to us.”

“Naneth, my carelessness caused this mess to begin with, I should be the one to finish it,” demanded Nemir. 

“No Nemir. You have not yet mastered your skills, and it will be safer for us all if we face Nimmon. We don’t have time to argue, we fight against the rising tide,” said Aeriel as she collected a blade from Mithiel and handed it to Nemir. “Here, use this to cut the bindings and then return to this shore with the boy without being detected.” Nemir reluctantly agreed knowing that she should trust her mother’s millennia of experience. 

“Just like old times,” said Mithiel with a large grin as she placed a couple long knives into her belt. 

“The others I care not about,” stated Aeriel, “Nimmon is our target here.” 

The four Oaritsi slinked into the darkness, cutting through the water so smoothly a ripple would not give them away. In unison they hummed a haunting tune which called forth a thick,  white mist from the surface of the water. The ghost like tendrils spread and grew till they encased the boat and the water surrounding it. 

“This fog appeared from nowhere,” said one of the men as he warily gazed around the ship, “I can’t even see past the sides of the boat.”

“You may be in luck cousin,” smirked Nimmon, “It seems as if your creature has arrived.”

Using the fog to keep hidden, the three mermaids slowly circled the boat while Nemir branched off to rescue Morfindir. 

_ “You shouldn’t have come here,”  _ they sang in unison their voices beautiful yet menacing, “ _ only death waits for you beneath the waves, for dead men tell no tales.”  _

This greatly startled the hired men as the song caused terror and dread to flood their souls, “You said there would only be one!” challenged Lorn as he scanned for the source of the voices. 

_ “We only want the one called Nimmon. If you give him to us, we will grant you safe passage from this place.”  _

The three men eyed each other to nonverbally consider this arrangement, but Nimmon caught the look of fear and doubt in their eyes. “If I don’t make it back to shore, you won’t see a single gold piece, but if you help me now I’ll double your pay.” The promise of more gold seemed to pacify the men for the moment and they nodded in agreement. “Now quickly put the wax in your ears and be prepared to capture anything that moves,” ordered Nimmon as he gathered a fishing spear. 

During this exchanged, Nemir had reached the nearly submerged rocks and found Morfindir desperately trying to keep his head above the waves. The fog protected her from the view of the ship, so she  approached the rocks till she was but a foot away from her friend. 

“Morfindir, “ she whispered and as she voiced his name his vision cleared allowing him to see her through the haze. 

“Nemir” he startled at her sudden appearance, “you shouldn't be here. Nimmon has gone insane and is determined to capture you.”

“Well I can’t just let you drown,” she countered as she began sawing at the ropes holding him to the rocks, “besides, I brought reinforcements.” 

“Your mother?” he asked. 

“And a couple aunts,” she said continuing to make progress. “It’s your cousin you should be worried about.”

“Maybe I can talk some sense into him, once I’m free,” he offered. 

“He was going to let you drown. Besides, his fate will be of his own making,” with a final cut, Nemir freed him and he was better able to support his body in the water. “Place your arms around my shoulders,” she instructed, “I’m going to take you to shore.”

Morfindir wanted to argue, but his arms and legs were numb from the cold and tight ropes. He gently grasped her shoulders, afraid that his weight would make swimming difficult for her, but she gracefully moved through the water without any effort, pulling him along. They cleared the fog area when they reached the shallows near the shore, and here Morfindir was able to wade up to dry land. He turned  when he didn’t hear the sound of Nemir following him, and found her sitting at the edge of the waves facing the ship. Her tail glistened as if the scales were made from mithriel, dark hair fell in a long braid down her back, and her skin seemed to be made of moonlight. The only clothing upon her was a strip of fabric firmly wrapped around her bosom and he was grateful for the darkness. He couldn’t help but gaze in awe of her beauty in that moment. 

___________

Back at the boat, the three Oaritsi began their attack. Laegwen shifted between the fog giving the men limited glimpses of her form, like a seductive phantom. She paused for but a moment at the side of the boat near  a squat man with greasy hair attempted to strike her with a spear. She easily avoided the attack, grabbed the wooden handle, and pulled, causing the man’s over extended body to fall easily into the water with a large splash. The panicked man slapped the surface of the water as he flailed his arms about his body.

“Help! Nimmon, Lorn! I can’t swim,” he yelled desperately.

He was so dismayed that he was oblivious to Laegwen’s presence, her skin yet again merging with the darkness. She silently approached the man from behind, and raised a webbed hand that now sported long, sharp nails that resemble the spines of fish. With a swift strike, she jabbed the points into the man’s back causing him to call out in pain. He attempted to defend himself, but his movement’s became increasingly slow and clumsy until he moved no more. Laegwen grabbed his body and kept it from sinking as Aeriel addressed the people in the boat, “We have one of your men, it you give us Nimmon we will return him to you and allow you to leave.” 

“Brand was always useless,” responded Lorn with a snort, “besides, with him gone we both get a larger cut of the gold.”  

“So be it,” responded Aeriel and with a nod to Laegwen, the mermaid and the man sunk into the bay. 

The foam maidens continued to surround the ship singing a song of doom and despair as they slowly circled like sharks. The two remaining men grew continuously restless as they failed to control the growing panic, but Nimmon showed no signs of surrender. In a desperate attempt to fight the invisible foe, Lorn reached for a net and positioned to cast it blindly into the fog. Before he could do so, however, Mithiel released a scream so powerful that it toppeled the large man into the bottom of the boat, causing the net to fall on top of him. The pitch was so high that it forced all the men to collapse in pain as they covered their ears, despite the wax placed there. 

“Do you still reject our generous offer?,” sneered Mithiel with a dangerous gleam in her eye, “It doesn’t seem as if your precautions offer much protection.”

“Shut up you sea witch,” screamed Nimmon as he attempted to regain his feet. 

“I personally hope you don’t,” replied Mithiel with a grin, “I’m having too much fun.” She then retrieved a small knife from her belt and threw it into the upper thigh of the remaining nameless henchman. He screamed in pain as it found its mark creating an agonizing if not fatal wound. 

“Let’s see how brave they remain, without the security of the boat,” threatened Aeriel before diving under the ship. She ran her hands along the hull, and as she passed the binding materials aged and metal rusted, weakening the integrity of the ship and allowing  water to seep through. When she surfaced, the men were already bailing water out of the boat, “If you leave now, you might make it to the docs before the boat floods.” 

Lorn released a deep, frustrated growl, “Grab the runt Job.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Nimmon as he aimed his spear at the two remaining men, “I hired you!”

“I can’t spend gold rotting at the bottom of the ocean, I know when I’m beat,” replied Lorn as he collected some rope, “Nothing personal.” 

“Cowards!” with a yell Nimmon tried to rush the men, but he was easily disarmed by Job who pulled the spear from his hands then forcing him into the water growing in the hull. Lorn restrained a wiggling and cursing Nimmon before lifting him onto the edge of the bow. “I have your word Foam Maiden that we will have safe passage.” 

“ I swear upon the tears of my mother, “ said Aeriel. 

“Deal,” with a single push, Nimmon’s body was forced into the cold waters below. His screams were temporarily ended as the water flooded into his mouth, but was recovered by Mithiel before he could sink any further. 

“Laegwen,” called Aeriel and the mermaid approached carrying the body of the paralyzed man, “The poison should wear off by morning,”. 

“You didn’t drown him!” exclaimed Job in surprise. 

“Despite what the stories say, we try to avoid unnecessary bloodshed,” said Laegwen as she lifted the man up the sides of the boat where he was retrieved by his cohorts. 

“I have one last demand,” said Aeriel,  **_“Once you reach the shore, you will forget what took place here and will blame the loss on a night of excessive drinking._ ** No go for time is limited.” With their goal accomplished the Oaritsi disappeared into the waves with their prisoner. 

____________ 

“Why don’t you join me on the shore?” asked Morfindir. 

Nemir’s cheeks blushed, “My pants are on the rocks, and if I transform…well uh...yeah.”

“Oh,” he nervously ran his hands through his damp hair, “I see. Do you want me to fetch them for you?” 

“Please,” she said with smile. 

He walked over to the grouping of rocks and had to feel around for the fabric in the limited light. He finally grasped some clothing that he hoped belonged to Nemir and returned to the water.  “I found them, I think,” he said as he handed the legging to her, “I’ll give you some privacy.” 

“Thank you,” Nemir waited for his back to turn before she transformed. It was a little difficult pulling the tight pants over her damp legs, but she eventually managed. “It’s safe now,” she called out, “Though you might want to prepare yourself, because my aunt’s have no sense of modesty.” He turned to face her, his eyes wide with horror, and this caused her to break into uncontrollable giggles. 

“I’m glad you two are having fun while we do all the work,” teased Mithiel as she pulled a bound Nimmon onto the sand, followed by Aeriel and Laegwen. 

“What are you going to do with him?” asked Morfindir as he uneasily eyed his cousin’s body. 

“That will depend upon Nemir,” said Aeriel.  

“Me!” squeaked the teenager. 

“Yes, as you said before, your actions brought about this turn of events. It’s your responsibility to end it,” decreed Aeriel. 

“Cousin!” begged Nimmon as he struggled against his bindings, “Please help me. They surely will kill me.”

“You would ask me for help now? After what you did to me just moments ago!” Morfindir said his face twisted with disgust. 

“I wouldn’t have let you drown. You’re like my brother,” tears formed in blond’s eyes as he gazed up at his cousin. 

“You forget that I know you too well, Nimmon. You may fool others, but if not for these women here, I know I would be dead,”  he turned his back to the captive. “Nemir, I trust you to do the right thing.” 

Nimmon’s pathetic face transformed into one of rage, “You traitor! You won’t get away with this!”

“I’ve decided,” interjected Nemir as she walked to stand before the prisoner,  “ **_You will tell your tale to all you meet, but your words will be that of madness. This will continue until you complete a selfless act of love, but if you seek out revenge you will suffer this curse forever.”_ ** Never before had she used the Sea Spell on a person, and the power that flowed through her was intoxicating. It was as if all the energy of a storm raged inside her. Her voice had a weight to it, like thunder, but the song flowed as sweet as honey from her lips. She could feel the magic pull from her, and flow toward Nimmon. It bound him with her will, settling upon him like a second skin.  

“So be it,” said Aeriel, “Mithiel after we leave, free him from his bindings and leave him on this shore. Someone will come along and find him in the morning.” 

“My pleasure,” replied the mermaid as she leaned over the scared man. 

“Don’t leave me here alone with her!” yelled Nimmon. 

“You will leave him unharmed,” her mother ordered.

Mithiel sighed in disappointment, “Fine.” 

“Morfindir, it’s a long swim back to the mainland, and it will be faster if you let Nemir assist you. You can stay with us for the night and return home in the morning.” He nodded in agreement, but kept his face turned away from the women in order to avoid their nudity. 

“Give me a moment after I get into the water, and then follow me,” Nemir said before walking into the waves. Once it reached waist high she removed her leggings and tied them around her waist before shifting. “I’m ready,” she called out to the shore. Her mother and aunt had already gone ahead in order to give them a little privacy, which Nemir appreciate since this whole situation was so insane she wasn’t sure how Morfindir would process it. He slowly waded into the water and wrapped his arms around her as before, but he remained quiet for the whole duration of the trip.

When they finally reached the beach near her house, she found her mother wrapped in a robe waiting for them. “Come, let’s get you into some dry clothes and I’ll look at those rope burns.” He simply nodded and followed them up the hill and into the cozy cottage where a warm fire blazed. As promised, he was provided with spare clothing as his dried before the hearth, and a woven blanket and pillow for his makeshift bed. Aeriel wished them both  a goodnight, before leaving the two young people alone in the kitchen. 

“You’ve been quiet,” whispered Nemir nervously, “are you mad at me for what I did to your cousin?” 

Morfindir sighed as he rubbed his palms into his tired eyes, “No. I’m not mad. I don’t know how I feel. This whole situation is so… had to believe. They may be unpleasant  people, but they did take me in after my parents died. I don’t know if I should pity him or hate him.” 

“I’m sorry. I never meant to put you in this situation. If only I hadn’t been so careless that evening, you wouldn’t be in this situation.” The weight of her actions and their consequences crashed around her and a few tears escaped her eyes.  

As she turned to leave, his calloused hand grabbed hers, “ I don’t regret meeting you for a single moment,” and he reached up to brush the tears from her smooth cheek. This caused her lips to grow into a small smile, and she slowly leaned closer into his body and placed a gentle kiss upon his stubbled face. Before he could react, she walked over to the ladder that lead to her loft and whispered, “Goodnight.” 


	9. Fallout

When Nemir awoke the next day, she discovered that Morfindir had left earlier that morning. His borrowed clothing and blankets were folded neatly in a pile and left in the seat on a chair. She was disappointed that he had left without saying goodbye, but hoped that last night hadn’t damaged their friendship. He seemed to handle the situation as well as could be expected, but maybe he was just putting on a brave face. She sighed as she gathered the pile of fabric to return it to storage, hoping that staying busy would clear her mind. No matter how hard she tried, however, her mind kept returning to Morfindir. 

“Well you’re up earlier than usual,” said Aeriel as she entered the cottage with  a basket full of dried laundry. 

“I was hoping to catch him before he left,” replied Nemir as she sat at the table. 

“It might be best to give the poor boy some space, but I feel as if he will come back around eventually. Help me fold this laundry.” Nemir submerged herself yet again into her work and tried to find comfort in it’s normality. 

A few days later, the young foam maiden traveled down to the beach at noon hoping to find Morfindir waiting to begin their weekly lesson. Her heart sank when she failed to spot him on the shore, but reassured herself that he might just be running late and not to jump to conclusions. She settled down in the sand to wait, but as each minute passed, her hope faded. She waited for an hour and a half before finally giving up and chose to go for a swim to calm her mind. With the damage of Nimmon’s actions still recent upon her mind, she decided not to use her fin as she slowly walked toward the waves. 

A couple more weeks passed, and she still had occasional dreams of Nimmon as he hunted her through the sea. Sometimes he would capture her and parade her through the town in a cage. Other times she would pull him under the waves and watch as the light faded from his eyes. She never could decide which scenario was worse and wished she had Morfindir to talk to about these nightmares. She continued to travel down to the shore each Highday at 12:00 pm, but he still had not appeared. Nemir was beginning to worry that something bad had happened to him, but when she asked her Ada he said he was still working at the docks. 

Finally on the fourth week, Nemir traveled down to the beach to find Morfindir waiting for her. She rushed down to him, and threw her arms around him in a firm hug. The sudden force almost knocked him over and he was forced to steady himself to keep from falling over. 

“Ulmo’s beard! You’re suffocating me Nemir,” he said struggling through her tight grip. 

She suddenly released him and an embarrassed blush rose to her cheeks, “I’m sorry. I...I was worried about you.” As she examined his face, she could see  dark circles under his tired eyes, “How are you? I became worried when you missed our lessons.”

He let his body sink to the sand, “Things have been as good as could be expected. Nimmon’s parents have kept him isolated due to his new...condition. While he hasn’t implicated me, Aunt Bruiwen still suspects that I was involved somehow. She has been making things...difficult at home.”

“I feel terrible,” she joined him on the ground, “If not for me, you wouldn’t be in this situation.” 

“You have to stop blaming yourself,” he said as he grasped one of her hands, “I made my own choices.” 

“That’s easier said than done,” Nemir looked into his bright blue eyes. “While you were gone, I couldn’t help but  imagine all the ways your aunt was making your life miserable because of me.”

“That’s one of the reasons I came to meet you today,” Morfindir pulled away from her and chose to stare out into the waves. 

She was taken about by this sudden change in him, “What did she do?” 

“I don’t really want to go into details, but what little tolerance she had for me is gone,” he paused and his shoulders slumped, “Because of this, my uncle think it best that I leave...”

“Leave!” exclaimed Nemir, “are they forcing you out?”

“In a way,” he turned back to face her, “I’m traveling on a ship to Dol Amroth in the morning.” She sat speechless for a second as her mind rejected his words. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but I couldn’t risk being seen with you so soon,” he explained,” I...I want you to come with me.”

Nemir blinked at him before stammering, “What? To Dol Amroth?”

“Yes,” his took her hands back in his, “Just hear me out. You don’t deserve to stay in this miserable village. Come with me and see the Sea-ward Tower. They say it’s so tall you can see Minas Tirith when you stand at the very top. The city is so large you can live their with more anonymity and it’s built right beside the bay so you can still swim regularly. I heard a merchant talking one time, and he said they have buildings with multiple levels. Can you imagine!? ”  

The desperation in his voice gripped Nemir’s heart and she wished she could give him the answer he wanted. “I wish I could, but I haven’t finished my training. Also, my family is here. I can’t just leave them.”

Her words deflated him and his shoulders fell, “ I know it can be hard to look beyond the borders of home, but there are so many beautiful places in Middle Earth. Don’t we deserve to experience them?” 

“I can’t train in a place so populated with people,” explained Nemir as she looked intently into his handsome face. “I can’t repeat what happened with Nimmon. I couldn’t live with myself.” 

“I understand,” he said quietly, “I knew you would stay, but I still had to try. Promise me this. When you do leave this miserable place, you will come to Dol Amroth and find me.” 

“I will,” she promised. Morfindir gently cradled her face and gradually moved forward. He moved slowly giving her time to shift away, but she she watched mesmerized as his mouth came closer till it finally contacted hers. His lips were warm and soft as they pressed against hers gently and she leaned against him, returning his kiss. 

He pulled away from her, a sad smile upon his face, “If by some miracle you change your mind, join me at the dock at sunrise.” He placed one last quick kiss upon her lips before standing and running toward the path leaving Nemir on the beach below. She could only sit stunned as she lightly touched her lips that still held his warmth. 

**Five Years Later**

Nemir quickly blocked an attack as a foot and a half long blade came barreling down from above. Spotting an opening, she sent a swift kick to the midsection of Mithiel forcing her teacher back and giving Nemir a moment to recover. The older mermaid thrust her bladed staff forward forcing her student to stop the blade by pushing the weapon to the side with her own identical staff. Mithiel spun her weapon forcing Nemir back a few steps before the two blades met again in the air, but Nemir’s was forced down to the ground by her aunt’s great strength. The opposing sharp edge released it’s hold only to rush toward Nemir’s head forcing her to duck to avoid decapitation. Using her lower position to her advantage, Nemir swept her staff under Mithiel’s legs, but she easily flipped backward. Hoping to keep the offensive position, Nemir spun her staff to gain momentum before  thrusting forward only to be blocked yet again. 

“If you keep that up, I might be impressed,” said Mithiel with a proud smile. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have taught me all your best tricks,” replied Nemir with a confident smirk. 

“I kept a few for myself,” using the blunt end of her weapon she stuck for her niece’s knee causing her to fall to the sand before  raising her blade and placing it under her victim’s chin. 

“I certainly will remember that one,” grumbled Nemir as she acknowledged her defeat and allowed the scale armor that covered each leg to dissolve into smooth skin. The leather jerkin she wore provided some protection, but the scales protected her exposed legs.  Though she had mastered this half form, it took more energy and focus to maintain.

“You did very well,” said Mithiel as she assisted her to her feet, “Give it 500 years and you might be able to beat me.”

“Really, sister,” said Aeriel, “I think she will  match your skills in 100 years time easily.”

“Care to bet on that?” asked Mithiel mischievously.

“No. You won’t get your hands on my Blue Fire blade so easily.” 

Nemir watched the exchange as she returned the hollow top of her bone staff over the blade and secured it in place with a twist. The addition of the end protected the metal from the salt water and allowed her to carry a bladed weapon without drawing too much attention. She was going to miss these regular meetings with her family. They had become such an integral part of her life that she couldn’t quite imagine her week without them. 

“You best not forget my lessons just because you live in a city of men. I don’t want all my hard work to go to waste,” said Mithiel as she gathered a satchel from behind a rock and handing it to Nemir, “This should help with that.”

“What is this?” she shifted the leather bag and untied the knot to open it. In the bag, she found a long shirt made of leather and layered in overlapping, large, black scales. As she pulled it into the light, the color of the scales shifted from black to blue to purple and back to black again. Black leather lacing running down the top of the back helped to secure the armor in place after it has been put on. The scales on the sleeves were more delicate and traveled all the way down the arm till they reached the wrists. As Nemir held the armor against her, it seemed to stop around mid thigh with two slits, at each leg, to allow room for movement.  She gazed down in awe of its craftsmanship and beauty, “Sea Serpent scales... I can’t accept this.” 

“Of course you can. The rivers bring news of increased orc activity all across Middle Earth. They’ve been growing more bold ever since the elves let that necromancer corrupt Amon Lanc. I  never understood why Thranduil let that situation continue as long as he did,” said Mithiel. 

Laegwen let out an uncharacteristically girly sigh  as a dreamy look entered her eye, “Ah, as beautiful and as cold as star light he is”. Nemir was surprised by this since she had never heard her aunt speak in such a way before. ” 

“Yeah, and he has one of his elk’s antlers stuck up his arse,” grumbled Mithiel. 

“Mithiel!” exclaimed the green haired mermaid in shock. 

“Well it’s true,” continued her sister. 

“I have a gift for you as well,” interrupted Aeriel sending a stern look at the arguing women before presenting her daughter with a bundle wrapped in cloth. As Nemir pulled away the fabric, she revealed a set of short swords about one and a half feet long with a  broad, double-edged blades with matching black sheethes. As she examined the weapon, she could see symbols engraved along the metal in flowing Sindarin,  Eglossien  (Daughter of Ice) and  Lachiel (Daughter of Flame). The hilt of each sword contained a gem, one icy blue and one deep red, each one matched with the element named. 

“These are beautiful. Thank you Naneth,” said Nemir as she gripping them in her hands. 

“They were called ‘eket’ by the Numenoreans. Most were lost during the invasion of the Enchanted Isles or during the mass relocation, but we were able to salvage a few,” explained her mother.  

“Last but not least,” said   Laegwen as she excitedly approached carrying a large bundle of  fabric which she placed into Nemir’s lap. She stood to unfurl the long garment revealing a hooded cloak that shifted colors as it moved to reflect the surrounding colors of the beach. The unusual inner liner was made from strips of fabric in various shades of blue that had been joined together. Attached to the cloak was a silver shell pin, inlaid with mother of pearl, and a sizable while pearl placed in the center.  “It’s reversible,” explained her aunt, “The blue side can be worn to advertise your skills as an entertainer, but when stealth is needed the reverse side will adjust to your environment and hide you from your enemies.”

Nemir was starting to feel slightly overwhelmed by the pile of amazing gifts presented to her and a couple tears escaped her eyes. “I am eternally grateful to have such a wonderful  family. I’m going to miss all of you terribly.” 

“And we shall miss you,” said Aeriel as she embraced her daughter, “but we shall stay connected though the distance is great.” 

Nemir enjoyed the last few minutes on the beach exchanging final farewells before gathering  her gifts and walking back home with her mother. Her ship was scheduled to leave at sunrise the next morning so she was attempting to alter her night owl routine, but the additional items meant she needed to adjust the items  packed in her bags. She stared at her various belongings spread upon the top of the kitchen table, her entire life reduced down to a collection of items and anything left behind might not be seen for many years. 

“My sweet  Limelle. How did you grow up so fast? ,” said her father as he entered the candle lit room. 

“I may be older, but I still feel like that uncertain little girl,” she turned to face Reavor, “What if I fail?” 

The large but gentle man embraced his only daughter, “If I was a weaker man, I would ask you to stay here away from the dangers of the world. I can’t promise that you won’t face struggles, but I know you will overcome and grow because of them.” 

Nemir savored the feeling of love and security that blossomed from her center in her father’s arms, “ _ Gi melin Ada (I love y _ ou father).” 

“ _ Lellig le melithon anuir ( _ my daughter I will love you forever _ ),”  _ whispered Reavor as he gave his daughter one last squeeze before releasing her. “Good night dear. Try to get some rest for you have a long journey ahead of you,” he placed a kiss on her forehead before exiting the kitchen. 

With her father gone, she began placing items into her large leather bag including: a couple pairs of leggings, long tunics, wide leg pants, corset top, blouse, a wrap dress, a long vest, skirt, undergarments, her silver circlet, small bag of coin, and gifts from earlier that day. Her harp would have its own special waterproof bag that kept it better protected. Her task now complete, she climbed her ladder for possibly the last time. 

As she laid in her loft, sleep eluded her and she stared up at the thatched roof. This had been her refuge for so long, and she had memorized every joint, knot, and nail. She wished she had appreciated her time here more, but the idea of her leaving didn’t become real until that moment. She eventually drifted into a restless sleep and it seemed like only moments passed before her mother was calling for her. The sky was still dark as they exited the cottage, Nemir shifting the stuffed pack and staff strapped to her back as they began the 45  minute walk to the docks. As she reached the top of the hill, she turned to get one last glance at her home before disappearing over the ridge. 

“The Crownless King” seemed like a man amongst hobbits the way it towered over the smaller fishing vessels. Nemir knew much larger ships existed, but she couldn’t help but be impressed by the two giant masts, draped sails,  and deep hull. It was so large it was unable to dock at the village’s small dock, so she would have to ride on one of the fishing boats to board. Her father enthusiastically greeted a graying, middle aged man dressed in sailor’s garb who was standing on the pier. Nemir didn’t recognize him, so she assumed that he was a member of the merchant crew. 

“ Glamon! You old sea dog!” exclaimed Reavor as he clasped the man’s forearm. 

“It’s good to see you again, old friend,” he said and turned toward the woman, “Is this your beautiful wife and lovely daughter I’ve heard so much about?”

“Aye, I’m trusting you to take care of her. She is more valuable than any of the trash you pedal,” her father joked. 

Nemir stepped up to the man, “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Glamon. Are you the captain of the ship?”

“That I am. The old girl is my pride and joy,” he said as he gazed lovingly at the boat. 

“Thank you for providing her passage on your ship. I know you mainly focus on the transportation  of goods and not passengers,” said Aeriel. 

“Well, my stores are mostly empty and I couldn’t deny Reavor. Though I don’t know why he would let a lovely girl like you run off to the city,” commented Glamon. 

“Oh, don’t let that smile fool you. She can be ferocious when she wants to be, “ boasted her father as he clasped her on the back. 

“The biggest mistake a man can make is to underestimate a woman,” said her mother with a predatory smile which caused the captain to look uncomfortable for a second, but he soon recovered and returned to his jovial self.

“Wise words, from a wise woman. Well, we must leave with the tide so I’ll give you a moment to say goodbye, but please make it quick.” The man walked toward a small boat with a nod. 

Nemir turned to face her parents and forced a smile, “I love you both so much. If there is a way, I will write you.”

The couple embraced their only child, “Just know that we love you and you are welcome to return at any time,” said her father. 

“You can always send word through the rivers if you need me for any reason,” insisted Aeriel as she stroked her daughter's hair, “ _ Estelion allen  _ (I believe in you)”. 

Nemir stifled a sniffle as she freed herself from their arms.”I best leave while my courage still allows it,” she said before turning and walking down to meet Glamon. The captain assisted her into the row boat and helped her settle her luggage onto the floor. She turned to look upon her parents one last time and sent them a wave which they returned. The oars splashed into the water and the boat launched forward out into the bay. 

It didn’t take long for them to reach the boarding ladder that lead to the deck, “Let me help you with your luggage, darling,” offered Glamon, “those rops can be slippery.” 

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I can manage,” said Nemir as she grabbed the lowest step and easily pulled herself up. 

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shake of his head and followed suit. 

After a quick climb, her head surfaced above the railing and she spotted a handful of men bustling about the deck, pulling various ropes and lifting sails. She nimbly leaped onto the deck with Glamon not far behind. “Avast ye bums!” he bellowed to the men, “This is Lady Nemir. Her father is a good friend of mine, and you will treat her with respect if you know what’s good for you! Now get back to work, the tide is against us!” He turned back to face her, “If any of them give you any trouble, don’t hesitate to find me. They are good men, but a pretty girl can make them lose their wits.” 

“Understood,” she nodded and made a mental note to carry one of her blades with her at all times. “When do you think we shall arrive?”

“Well if we have fair winds, we should arrive to Dol Amroth in two days time,” he said as he waved over a shorter, muscled man with long dark hair and eyes, “Ravondir, come meet Nemir. Nemir, this is my 1st mate and I trust him with my life. If you need anything, just ask him.” 

“It’s an honor to to meet you my lady,” said Ravondir with a smile and small tilt of his head. 

“Show her to her room, while I command the helm,” ordered the captain. 

“Aye, aye sir,” the first mate motioned for her to follow him. He took her a set of steep stairs leading down to a dark and narrow hallway that eventually opened up to the cargo hold. She could see various odds and ends scattered about such as barrels, rope, and crates. As she walked through, she could feel the ship rock beneath her and it caused her to stumble slightly. Though the sea was a second home to her, she had very little experience with sailing. 

“Give it a little time, and you’ll get your sea legs,” he encouraged as they continued to walk through the room till they reached a door. “We don’t usually take on passengers, so we had to improvise a bit. It’s not fancy, but you’ll have some privacy.” He opened the door, revealing a small but mostly empty storage room. A hammock had been hung from the rafters, and  most of the items had been pushed against the walls to create an open area for her belongings. A small oil lamp provided the only light. “I do ask that you be careful with that light, miss. Fire is a dangerous thing on a ship,” he said. 

“Understood,” she said as she carefully shed her bags from her back. 

“I’ll let you get settled,” he gave her a reassuring smile and exited the room. 

It didn’t take long for Nemir to examine her lodgings as she could almost touch each wall with her arms outstretched. The lamp gave off very little light so she was grateful she unhindered darkness or this whole situation would be very unpleasant. She placed her bags and staff behind some crates in case someone decided to be nosey and search through her things. With the day just beginning, she placed a small knife in her boot, blew out the flame, and exited the room to explore the ship. 

The smell of the wood and salt air was calming as she slowly walked around the large storage room, examining the random collection of items. The portholes that lined the outer wall, allowed for some daylight to come in. The objects that interested her the most were a couple barrels of wine with elaborate markings burned in the wood and a crate that held bolts of beautiful fabric. She moved on toward the small hallway and up the stairs toward the deck. Bright sunlight shone down from a cloudless sky causing the waves to glisten as the boat cut through them. Nemir did her best to stay out of the way, and walked around the railing enjoying the breeze and beautiful view. She eventually found her way to the bow at the front of the boat, where she could feel the full force of the wind and the occasional salt water spray. A huge grin spread across her face as she leaned precariously forward, watching the water crash against the boat. A feeling of joy and excitement grew within her, and she knew her adventure had finally begun. 


	10. Dol Amroth

Nemir continued to be enthralled by the ship for the majority of the day. She stayed stationed by the bow, but would occasionally lap around the deck to observe the crew’s various activities. They tolerated her presence, but none really acknowledged her beyond a curious glance. It finally took an angry growl from her stomach for her to realize how late it had become as she glanced up at the descending sun. She hadn’t eaten since before sunrise and hunger slammed into her like a wave. So she made her way back to her room to eat some of the bread and cheese her mother insisted she bring. She lounged in her hammock as she alternated bites of bread and cheese, enjoying the gentle sway of the  ship. By the time she had returned to the deck, the sun was halfway below the horizon and the sky was engulfed in golds, reds, and purples. She stayed and watched the sky until it turned dark allowing for the moon and stars to shine. Nemir decided in that moment that she could have a happy life sailing on the sea, if the moment ever presented itselfs. She found a secluded area, formed a makeshift seat from piles of rope, and star gazed late into the night.

The next day proceed like the one before, with the 1st mate occasionally checking on her to make sure she hadn’t fallen overboard. That evening Nemir decided to bring her harp to the deck hoping to be inspired by the beautiful scenery. She playfully plucked the strings creating a series of  random melodies till she found one that suited her mood. The tune started slow and subtle but gradually increased in speed and intensity as her fingers nimbly moved along the strings she began to sing,

A timeless and forgotten place,  
The moon and sun in endless chase   
Each in quiet surrender   
as the other reigns the sky...   
The midnight hour begins to laugh   
A summer evening's epitaph   
The winds are getting crazy   
As the storm begins to rise...

  
Wild were the winds that came   
In the thunder and the rain   
Nothing ever could contain   
The rising of the storm....

In the wing of ebony  
Darkened waves fill the trees   
Wild winds of warning

She was startled from her song when an older man with thin graying hair, hooked nose, and bent back rushed toward her yelling. “Stupid girl!,” he bellowed, “are you trying to doom us all? Don’t you know it’s bad luck to talk about a storm much less sing songs about them! ” Nemir was so surprised by his outburst that she wasn’t sure how to react. She sat frozen, staring up at him, eyes wide. He finally hobbled way grumbling loudly to himself, “Should have known better than to bring a woman on board, bad luck they are….”

She was embarrassed to find that a small group of sailors had formed and witnessed the confrontation. Heat flushed her face, and she scurried to collect her instrument and retreat to her room, but was stopped when Ravondir approached her. “Don’t worry about Old Greg,” he said as sent her a reassuring smile, “he’s a bit too superstitious for his own good. He thinks everything can incur the wrath of Ossë.”

She didn’t know that her grandfather had such a reputation, and she wondered if her relation to him would be considered good or back luck in the old man’s eyes. “If you know a happier tune, I’m sure the men would like to hear it. You sing beautifully and it’s not often we have entertainment,”  said the 1st mate and several of the crew nodded in agreement. Nemir smiled and ran her hands across her harp creating a rising crescendo, and began a classic sea shanty she knew crew would be familiar with.

What do you do with a drunken sailor,

What do you do with a drunken sailor,

What do you do with a drunken sailor,

Earl-eye in the morning!

 

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Earl-eye in the morning

 

Throw him in the lock-up 'til he's sober,

Throw him in the lock-up 'til he's sober,

Throw him in the lock-up 'til he's sober,

Earl-eye in the morning!

It didn’t take long for the crew to join in, and soon their rough and hearty voices filled the air, and a few even began clapping and stomping to the beat adding to the energy. As the song ended, Nemir was rewarded with a joyful applause and requests for another song. She obliged and this continued for a couple hours until  Ravondir reminded the crew they still had to be up with the dawn. The men thanked her for her serenade as most retreated below deck to finally sleep for the night. She was surprised to find that she was tired as well, so she followed suit and traveled down to her closet room where she slumped into her hammock. The sound of the waves and rocking of the ship lulled her to sleep within minutes.

When Nemir stepped onto the deck the next morning, she was excited to see the faint outline of a tower off in the distance. They should be arriving at the large port within a few hours, and even this far out she had already spotted 2 other ships sailing the same course. She returned below deck to free her blue striped cloak from her bag and ensure that the rest of her belongings were accounted for. She wanted to be prepared when the time came to dock. Finally she rushed back to the deck and headed straight for the bow to gain the best view of the approaching city. It started slowly with clusters of simple houses sprinkled along the shore, but as the tower grew larger, buildings became more frequent and closer together. The number of boats increased as well, some were small fishing vessels like the ones back home, but others were much larger like “The Crownless King”, probably carrying goods from all over the kingdom. Eventually the massive city walls placed high upon the cliffs, came into view, and even at such a great distance they still took Nemir’s breath away. Never before had she seen such man made formations, and she couldn’t even fathom how they were created.  The city jutted out into the bay and was connected to the mainland by only one side. She could hear the faint chiming of a bell coming from the Sea-ward tower as the ship turned toward a giant wall made of white stone that extended from the city wall. The wall ran parallel to the shore, creating a smaller entrance to the wharf that could be more easily guarded called the Sea-Gate. The tower itself seemed as tall as a mountain and the island it sat upon was connected to the peninsula by a wide, stone bridge. She craned her neck upward trying to get a better look at the impressive building but the ship turned sharply to enter the gate.

There were several other boats waiting to dock, so Nemir ran down to gather her things. When she returned, the boat was slowly approaching a large pier and the crew were frantically throwing, pulling, and tying ropes to  secure it to the wooden walkway as Captain Glamon shouted orders. She tried to stay free of the chaos as she viewed the impressive number of docks that spread through the man made bay. Things seemed to finally calm down once the boat became secure, and Nemir approached the captain, “Nemir!” he greeted his voice still booming from yelling orders.

“Captain Glamon, I wanted to voice my gratitude before saying goodbye,” she said with a smile and small curtsy.

“It was no problem at all,” he reassured, “I’m sorry I didn’t see you more during your journey, but a captain’s work is never done. We plan to stay in port to till after the festival, so don’t hesitate to contact me if needed. It’s a beautiful city, but it has its fair share of nasty characters.”

“Perhaps you could recommend a reputable inn where I may find a room for the next few days?” she asked.

“Yes, you best find one soon. Everywhere will be filling up due the holiday. While sailors usually visit shader establishments, I’ve heard that The Dark Crab is safe for travelers. Just ask around, it’s well known,” he said.

“I’ll be sure to do that. Thank you again,” and after a final wave she pulled her bags onto her shoulders and headed toward the gangplank.

The wharf was vast, but luckily the entrance was marked by giant, imposing figures made of stone.  Two men garbed in uniforms, one holding a map and the other a compass. She gracefully wove her way through the crowds of people as they rushed about conducting their business, and exited out the gates. She wasn’t quite prepared for the sight before her as stone buildings several stories high greeted her. The sight stopped her in her tracks as she turned her eyes above and around, but the people behind her didn’t appreciate this and collided with her as they walked past. She got out of the middle of the street, and took a moment to collect herself. She didn’t realize till now, that finding Morfindir was going to be a lot more complicated than she originally thought. She knew no one, and would certainly get lost in the maze of streets. She hadn’t felt this naive and unsure since her 15th birthday, and tried fighting down a rising bubble of panic by taking a deep calming breath to focus her thoughts. Her parents had provided her with coin for a room, and she simply needed to walk around a bit to become more familiar with the area and perhaps find someone to ask about The Dark Crab. Even if she didn’t find that particular establishment, a city this size was certain to have no shortage of places to stay.

Feeling slightly less overwhelmed, Nemir continued to walk through the city,  staying on the widest road, which unfortunately seemed to be the busiest as well. She was glad she had hidden most of her money deep within her bag because it would be easy to be pickpocketed in such crowds. The streets were lined with stores and stalls, their wares displayed to lure in customers. She stayed in the market area for a time as she examined all the exotic goods she never would have seen back home like silks, foreign fruits, and fine jewelry. She eventually continued on, but paused at the sound of flowing water. She followed the noise until she discovered a large open area with a stone fountain at its center. The fountain was made from stone and was caved in the form of 3 mermaids, balanced upon their tails and pouring vases into the  , circular basin below. She couldn’t help but smile at this reminder of home and viewed the finding as a good omen. Around the base was stationed various performers and people were stopping to observe the different acts. There was a man in bright clothing juggling balls, sticks, and knives, another performing sleight of hand, and a minstrel playing a fiddle who was accompanied by a dancing woman. Nemir wondered if they were also here for the Yaviere festival as it was a draw for many traveling performers.

She drew closer to the fountain to better observe the musical couple as she was always trying to learn new songs to add to her collection. The one he played now was familiar to her, but the lyrics varied slightly and the tempo was quicker. The couple were obviously foreign as they lacked the dark hair and grey eyes that were typically found in the city and the surrounding areas. The man was nimble with  honey blond hair and sparkling blue eyes making her think he was perhaps of Rohan decent, but the woman had hair the color of flames and eyes that shone like emeralds. Nemir had never seen such a color and it flowed around as she danced. They had managed to drawn quite the crowd and she couldn’t help but notice that most of them were men. The man’s voice was pleasant enough and his fingers skilled, but it was easy to see who the focus was. As the song ended, she added to the applause and approached to place a copper coin into the bag.

“Ah, a complement always means more when it comes from a fellow artist,” greeted the man with a flourish and bow when he spotted Nemir’s multi-colored cloak.

“You’re welcome,” she said with a smile, “I quite enjoyed your performance. How long have you been in Dol Amroth?”

“We arrived a couple days ago,” joined in the woman, “but more arrive each day. I’m sure this celebration will be the largest seen in some time.”

“I had no idea Yaviere would be this big of a draw. Back home there was some celebrating, but nothing to this scale, “ commented Nemir.

“Well when you have a city this large and beautiful, why not show it off. Though we were worried that the recent orc sightings would keep people from traveling,” added the man.

“I had heard something about that, but I didn’t think it had gotten that bad,” said Nemir shocked, “did you encounter any of those monsters during your travels?”

“Thank Eru, we didn’t during this trip, but we’ve had some close calls,” said the woman extending a hand to Nemir. “I’m Finna and this is my husband Walden.”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” she said with a smile.

“What is your speciality?” asked Walden.

“I’m an aspiring bard,” replied Nemir shyly, “My instrument of choice is the harp.”

“A fellow musician!” he exclaimed, “Would you honor us by joining our performance for a song?”

“I'm flattered, but I must find a place for the night to keep my things. Are either of you familiar with The Dark Crab? It was recommended to me by a friend,” she asked hopefully.

“Ah yes, I’ve heard of The Dark Crab,” said Finna. “It’s mostly used by traveling merchants and the owner has a reputation for being honest.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where it is? I have yet to find it in this massive place,” she asked hopefully.

“I think it’s not too far from here, down that street with the anchor sign,” said Walden as he pointed to his left. “And if you aren't able to find a room there, stop by the Dancing Dolphin a little farther down. We’ve stayed there before and they are fond of musicians.”

“Thank you both so much,” she felt so blessed  to have met this friendly couple.

“After you get settled, please come join us. I know what it’s like to be away from home for the first time,” invited Finna with a kind smile.

“Is it that obvious?” cringed Nemir.

“Only to those of us who have lived it,” reassured Finna.

Nemir nodded in farewell as she made her way down the street pointed out to her by Walden. Colorful signs carved with interesting illustrations lined the air, and she was surprised by the lack of script. She continued down until she came upon a sign in the shape of a large crab that was so darkened with age it was almost black in color. “This must be it,” thought Nemir as she turned toward the three story building made of stone and plaster with a wooden slat roof. She entered the door to find a large common area full of wooden tables and chairs, a bar, and an impressively tall fireplace. A middle aged woman with rich brown hair and a plump figure was busily rushing around behind the bar area preparing for the evening rush. She called out without looking away from her work, “How can I help you?”.

Nemir approached the woman, “I was hoping to rent a room here for a week, if one is available..”

“You’re in luck. We only have a couple left. A room for a week will set you back five gold deary.” She finally paused from her cleaning to look at Nemir, “We don’t get many performers here.”

“My ship’s captain recommended your establishment,” she said as she dug for her coin pouch. She counted out the coins and handed them to the woman who seemed fascinated by the image engraved on the currency.

“Is something wrong?” asked Nemir nervously.

“These don’t bear the Steward’s mark, but only have the White Tree on both sides,” she said her brows furrowed as she brought each coin to her eye.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, but it’s been many years since this style was made, so you don’t see them very often. Where did you get them?” asked the woman.

“My parents gave them to me. They have been saving for some time and I’m from a very small village so I doubt much coin goes in or out,” explained Nemir.

“I suppose that could explain it…” agreed the woman hesitantly, “I guess it doesn’t really matter. Here is your key. Don’t lose it, because I won’t give you another. Your room is on the second floor and has a blue diamond on the door. We will provide you with a dinner each evening, but the rest of your meals are your responsibility. If  you cause trouble, I will force you to leave. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am” nodded Nemir as she retrieved the key and gathered her luggage,  finally being able to breathe now that the lady had accepted her story about the odd coins. She didn’t ask her mother where they got the coin for her trip, but she had a strong suspicion that it involved a shipwreck at the bottom of the bay. Before she left she turned back to the woman, “I’m looking for a friend of mine, are you familiar with man named Morfindir?”

“Can’t say that I am,” she said still focused on her task.

“Would you know the best way I could find him?” she asked hopefully.

“Not sure. It’s a big city,” the woman grumbled, “Is he a soldier or a boat man?”

“Well, we worked on the fishing boats back home…” replied the bard.

“Check down at the Salty Dog Tavern farther down the lane. It’s popular with boys down at the docks.”

“Thank you!” she was thrilled to have a place the start. The woman simply grunted and Nemir left her to continue her work.  Her room was simple but cozy with a single bed, wash stand, and a stool. She walked to the window and it faced into the alley that was shared between the two buildings. It wasn’t the best view, but she was glad to have a source of fresh air. She stripped off her travel clothes and used the water in the basin to wash off any sweat or dust. She would need to find a place to wash them eventually, and changed into a pair of bright cobalt blue pants with legs so wide it mimicked a skirt, an off shoulder, white blouse, and a grey leather corset embellished with a simple intertwining designs. The pants had a hidden pocket which allowed her to access the blade placed there since she decided not to bring her staff. Finally she unbraided her hair and combed through the knots, before pulling back the top so it hid her ears and letting the bottom hang free in waves down her back. The dim light from the setting sun shouldn’t draw attention to her inhuman coloring. Feeling refreshed, she fetched her harp satchel and left to return to the fountain after securing her room.

The crowds down at the courtyard had increased, and she observed that the mix was made of dockworkers, sailors, and soldiers who were finished with the day’s work. Men carrying torches were also traveling around lighting large fire basins placed strategically to provide additional light. She spotted Walden and Finna and made her way through the masses toward them.

“Nemir!” exclaimed Finna as she waved her over, “I’m glad you came back. Did you find your inn?”

“I did, thanks to you,” she said with a grateful smile as she withdrew her harp from its bag.

“That is a lovely instrument you have there,” said Walden as he leaned forward to get a better look at the harp, “the craftsmanship is impeccable. I bet it plays like a dream.”

“Thank you, my parents gave it to me for my 15th birthday. My Father taught me out to play since I was a little girl,” she explained as she fondly stroked the smooth wood.  

“Please provide us a demonstration,” he encouraged with a flourish and a smile.

Nemir looked out at the crowd before her, and took a steadying breath before taking a seat on the edge of the fountain and positioned the harp before her. She let the sound of the running water calm her as she began to play a jovial tune.

Come all ye rolling minstrels

And together, we will try

To rouse the spirit of the earth

And move the rolling sky

 

Those that dance, will start to dance

And those who don't will sway

In time to this our merry tune

That we play for you today

 

So, come all ye rolling minstrels

And together we will try

To rouse the spirit of the earth

And move the rolling sky

Walden joined in with his fiddle on the second verse and Finna clapped to the beat as she swayed and twirled. The group had drawn quite a large crowd of men in blue capes, leather uniforms emblazoned with an image of a swan upon their chests, and swords at their hips. Nemir found the group to be both impressive and intimidating as each man was  broad shouldered and well muscled. She had no doubt each knew how to use the weapon they carried. When the song ended, they all applauded and cheered, several placed coins at their feet. Nemir acknowledged their applause by taking take a deep bow. As she scanned the crowd, her eyes caught a pair of young men around her age who interacted with the Swan Knights, but didn’t share the same uniform. Instead of a swan, they bore the White Tree of Minas Tirith upon their chests and their green cloaks were finely made, trimmed with fur and silver embroidery. The younger looked to be around 20 with  raven hair, light grey eyes, and refined facial features. The older also had dark hair and grey eyes, but he possessed a stronger jaw, more pronounced nose, and was slightly taller with facial stubble. They were noticeably handsome and shared enough similarities that she suspected they were brothers or at least cousins.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a few men called out requests, and Walden obligated by started up a second song. She followed his lead, but her gaze kept going back to the brothers. The younger seemed to be enjoying himself, smiling and clapping along with other soldiers. The elder, however, appeared concerned with other matters as he watched the performance unfocused with a furrowed brow and tight mouth. It was as if he carried a mysterious weight upon his shoulders, and she couldn’t help but think that he was too young to be weighed down by such responsibility during a celebration. Walden’s song ended and he quickly transitioned into another. His bow flew across the strings with incredible speed and Nemir felt as if  harp was not needed at the time. Finna noticed this and motioned for her to join her as she enthusiastically moved with the music, and Nemir obliged letting the power of the music guide her as if she was back at the beach at home.

Caught up in the moment, she did something rather unexpected, even to herself. She made her way over the serious, tall, dark, stranger, grabbed his hands, and with a tug managed to pull him into the center of the circle with her. He was so surprised that he was unable to resist until it was too late, and he stood stunned as his companions cheered and encouraged him. Nemir flashed him her best smile and reached for him again. She led him around in excited circles, but he obviously had dance training because he took the lead and they stepped and twirled in perfect unison. The whole experience was a rush and when the song ended her face was flushed from laughing and smiling. She felt justified when a grin had formed upon her partner’s face as well and they turned to face the crowd with a curtsy and a bow. The men cheered, clapped, and hollered causing quite the racket and several called out “Boromir! Boromir!”.

Her partner turned to face her and bowed, “That was an unexpectedly pleasant experience. Thank you Mistress Bard.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” she said with a smile and a small curty.

He returned back to his companions and the cheering continued as they welcomed him back. Walden stood on the edge of the fountain and yelled above the crowd, “Thank you for being a wonderful audience! Unfortunately our time here has ended, but if you want more you can find us at The Swan Maiden.” The announcement caused the crowd to slowly move its attentions elsewhere.  

Nemir was gathering her things when Walden presented her with a handful of silver coins, “What's this?” she asked.

“This is your portion of the earnings. Those soldiers were quite generous thanks to that brilliant stunt you pulled,” he complemented.

“I’m not sure I can accept this. I don’t feel like I did much work,” she insisted.

“And that's why we love this profession, it never truly feels like work,” added Finna, “Take it Nemir, we insist.”

“If you insist,” and she placed the money in her haversack. “Thank you for all you’ve done. I would be literally lost without you.”

“Do you want to join us at The Swan Maiden? They made a wonderful stew?” offered Finna.

“Thank you for the invitation, but I think it is time for me to retire. I’m still recovering from the trip,” said Nemir.

“Well don’t be a stranger, and if you change your mind you know where to find us,” said Walden as they gathered their items and started toward their next performance.

The streets had emptied and Nemir enjoyed her first moment of quiet since she had arrived in the city as she walked back toward her room. She wasn’t used to the constant noise and being surrounded by herds of people. She felt rather drained by the day’s activities. The common room was still serving a few customers when she entered The Dark Crab, but she made her way up the steps and into her room without getting her provided dinner. Once she reached her room, she undress, crashed onto her bed, and  she was asleep in moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used in the chapter: "The Storm" by Blackmore's Night. "Come All Ye" by Fairpoint Convention


	11. The Festival

Nemir awoke the first morning of the Yaviere Harvest Festival, a childlike excitement energizing her as she freed herself from the bed. She dressed practically,  braided her hair into a bun and covered it with a head scarf, packed her knives and harp, and finally retrieved her cloak, before exiting her room. The common room was packed full of visitors breaking their fast before enjoying the day’s activities. She decided to bypass food for the moment and buy something from one of the vendors out on the street. Walking through the city, she gazed up at the vibrant banners hung from walls and multi-colored streamers suspended between buildings. People bustled about traveling between vendors, entertainers, and shops. The collaboration of  noises and smells merged together to create a chaotic song that affected all the senses. 

The most anticipated event of the day was a combat tournament hosted in a temporary stadium built around the Swan Knights’ training grounds. Nemir was excited to observe the famous fighting skills of Gondorian soldiers, and she rushed toward the grounds hoping to find a decent spot. The competition didn’t start for another hour, but people were already filling the long wooden benches, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder. She wasn’t thrilled about being so enclosed, but decided she could endure for a few hours. She watched people continuously flow into the structure cramming into every available space. The loud murmurings of the crowd were interrupted when loud trumpeting preceded the arrival of Prince Imrahil followed by his teenage son, Elphir, as they walked onto a raised platform. . 

“Citizen’s of Gondor and visitors from foreign lands,” bellowed the Prince, his voice commanding and deep, “I welcome you to Yaviere! Today you will witness the strength and skill the men of this great land poses as they compete for the title of Grand Champion.” Cheers and applause erupted from the audience and after a moment the prince raised a hand and the citizens quieted. “This year we are honored by the presence of Lord Boromir and Lord Faramir, honorable sons of our Steward in Minas Tirith and my nephews who will be participating in today’s festivities.”

At the mention of Boromir, Nemir jolted to attention. Surely they couldn’t be one in the same?  It didn’t seem possible...but her investment in the competition intensified. The Swan Knights were famous for their cavalry so the first activities consisted of jousting, agility courses, and mounted combat. She was impressed by men and animals working in tandem, and mystified by the way subtle commands directed such large creatures. She, however, didn’t feel truly invested until the  mêlée fighting began. The knights dominated most of the competition, except for two men in armor embellished with a white tree. She had been following them closely hoping to catch a glimpse of their faces, but the helmets casted a shadow.  The warriors, whom she assumed were the Steward’s sons, were extremely skilled and defeated each increasingly difficult opponent. Climbing up the ranks till only four competitors remained, leaving each brother facing a high ranking Swan Knight officer.  One succeeded but the other was eventually defeated after a long and grueling battle. He fought with grace and strength, but the older Knight’s experience allowed him to out maneuver the young Lord. 

Finally, black and silver faced against blue and white. Nemir leaned forward, focusing on each sword swing. It was an intense battle as the pair seemed to be equally matched, but the Knight’s blocks and attacks began to slow ever so slightly allowing for the younger man to take advantage. A sword flew into the dirt and the opponent yielded. Spectators rushed to their feet as applause filled the stadium, and cheers erupted around her. The victor removed his helmet to reveal the handsome face of Lord Boromir. He lifted his sword in a salute to his Uncle then turned to acknowledge the audience. Cheers intensified as flowers rained around him, tokens of appreciation from his many admirers. Nemir couldn’t help but smile and add her voice to the others, glad that her soldier had been victorious. 

Feeling energized after witnessing such a marvelous display, Nemir traveled down to Harper’s Court to browse through the market. She followed the wonderful smells of roasted meat and baking bread,  rushing to purchase food to satisfy her rumbly stomach. She munched on a chicken leg as she walked, but stopped suddenly when she spotted a bakery displaying tarts in several flavors. Feeling especially indulgent, she bought three, placing two in her bag for later. Hunger satisfied, she returned to the fountain that had become a refuge the past few days to earn back some of the coin she had spent. The area was packed with a motley assortment of entertainments, and Nemir knew it would be difficult to find a space of her own where she could cut through the clammer. She understood why Finna and Walden had decided to restrict their performances to private establishments for the duration of the festival, but wasn’t sure how to go about offering her services to the owners. She made a mental note to talk to them later that day about doing just that. 

She finally decided to find a less saturated area to offer her song. She wandered around for about an hour, but every area of the city seemed to be utilized by one group or another. Eventually she stumbled upon a quite area marked by a multilayered, white stone building. Wide marble steps led to intricately carved vines traveling up a large set of  double doors, flanked by stone swans. Above the door, lettering was engraved into the stone, spelling out the word Library in Sindarin. Intrigued, she slowly approached the door, and paused before reaching for the handle, expecting someone to stop her at any moment. The solid wood took some effort to move and the hinges released a loud creaking sound, but she quickly scurried into the narrow opening and pushed the door shut behind her. The smell of musty parchment and old leather wafted into her nose and she inhaled deeply savoring the smell. Before her stood three open levels, containing rows upon rows of shelves packed full of scrolls and leather bound books. The towering domed ceiling depicted a scene of a fleet of ships defending the city from the Corsairs of Umbar.  She stood in awe feeling slightly unsettled in the face of such beauty and history and couldn’t help but wonder why such a wonderful place was empty during the city’s largest holiday. 

“May I help you Miss?” an old, thin framed man, wearing brown robes shuffled toward her. 

“Good afternoon sir, I was simply admiring your beautiful library. I hope I’m not trespassing,” she said. 

“No, not at all. This main area of the Library is open to the public, though we do have more secure areas reserved for the city’s scholars,” his voice was quiet but rough, like he was talking in a loud whisper.  

“I never imagined there could be so many books in all of Middle Earth. Have you read them all?” asked Nemir. 

“Oh, goodness no. You would need the lifespan of an elf to accomplish such a thing, and some are written in languages unknown to me. It is refreshing to find a young woman so interested in the written word. Literacy is not as revered as it should be, even within the Noble families,.” he remarked. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have time to explore as long as I would like today, but I will come back soon Master...”

“ Ioriston, please call me Ioriston, and you are?” he asked, offering a small smile. 

“Nemir, pleased to meet you,” she replied with a small curtsy. 

“You are welcome anytime my dear,” said the old scholar before shuffling back to his shelves. 

She wished she had more time to stay, but knew she needed to take advantage of the Festival to earn as much coin as possible. Reluctantly she left the peaceful refuge and returned to the bustling streets to renew her search. She stumbled upon a corner by a statue of a horse standing on his hind legs near the armory and stables. It wasn’t as close to the main festivities as she would like, but there was a steady stream of soldier traveling back and forth who might appreciate her songs. She stayed there until the sky turned orange and purple before gathering her earnings and return to The Dark Crab for dinner. The sound of several horses’ hooves clattering on the cobblestone street distracted her and she turned to see about 15 men in armor approaching the stables. They lacked the blue adornment of the Swan Knights, their cloaks carrying the dust and mud of travel, and their horses shone with sweat. 

As she turned back to complete her task, the face of one of the soldiers caught her attention. Something about him seemed so familiar, but his hood was obscuring part of his face making it difficult for her to place him. Was he from the tournament? No, that's not it. She sat on the base of the statue and studied the man as he maneuvered his horse, wishing he would remove his cloak. The hood finally slipped back slightly as he dismounted, and she jumped to her feet. 

“Morfindir?” she called out as her heart banged against her chest, afraid that time had weakened his memory of her. The man turned, searching for the source of his name, and she removed her own hood before repeating his name with a wave. 

“Nemir!” he exclaimed, dropping his reins and rushing toward her causing many of his fellow men to pause and observe the commotion. She let out a small yelp of surprise as he lifted her off the ground and spun her around in his muscular arms. 

“I can’t believe it’s you,” he marveled, gently returning her feet to the ground.

“You didn’t think I would stay in Fish Farm forever did you?” she said with a smirk. 

“I was beginning to have my doubts. You certainly took your time.” he chuckled. 

“Are you going to tell me how you managed to earn that uniform?” she asked motioning to his garb. 

“All in good time. I promise. I have to finish up some things before I can talk.  Can you meet me at the barracks in an hour?” he asked as he reclaimed his animal. 

“If you give me directions I should be able to manage it,” she said. 

Morfindir instructed her which paths to take before taking his horse into the stables. Nemir rushed back to The Dark Crab to scarf down dinner and freshen up her appearance before making her way toward the barracks. They were simple single story, stone structures placed on the very edge of the city, some even touched the  towering white walls. Most of the men had left to enjoy the evening’s celebration by the time she arrived, but there were still a few hanging about in uniform either just returning from or about to go their station. 

“I’m glad you didn’t get lost,” she turned toward the voice to find her friend approaching her. His shoulders seemed wider than she remembered,  his face now sported a full, but neatly trimmed dark beard, and he walked with a new grace and confidence that comes with combat training. Though he no longer wore his leather jerkin, he still carried his sword strapped to his waist, and she thought that it suited him. “It took me a year before I finally learned to maneuver this maze of a city.” 

“I may have taken a few wrong turns,” she admitted reluctantly, “which is why I’m charging you with giving me an official tour.”    
  


“A task which I happily accept,” he offered his arm to her and she gladly accepted. He lead her along some of the quieter back streets as he pointed out different buildings and statues, explaining their names and purpose. They continued till they reached a small door that was embedded inside the thick wall. He stopped and pulled a heavy metal key from one of his pockets. 

“What are you doing?” she asked. 

“It’s a surprise,” he said with a sly smile and a twinkle in his eyes as he pushed the door open revealing a dark, narrow staircase.  He reached in to claim an unlit torch from the wall and with a spark from a piece of flint and steel, it erupted to life. “Follow me, and watch your step” was all he said before ascending the steep stairs. 

The flames cast erry shadows on the wall as they traveled only adding to the mysterious atmosphere. She stepped carefully with a hand placed against the damp wall for balance. The steps continued on for what seemed like ages till they suddenly stopped at a wooden door placed in the ceiling above them. Using his strong shoulders, he forced the door upward with a stubborn screech until it fell open with a loud crash against the stone. Nemir could see a glimmer of light peeking through the opening and excitedly followed him upward onto a narrow walkway that stretched along the length of the wall. 

She rushed toward the small ledge and gazed out from the top of the city wall and onto the endless ocean. It glimmered with moonlight and it’s twin the sky speckled with diamonds. “It’s beautiful,” she praised as she savored the feel of the ocean breeze against her face. 

 “I knew the moment I came here, that I had to share it with  you,” Morfindir said has he joined her leaning against the stone. “These walls sometimes keep out the beautiful as well as the ugly so I occasionally come here to get some fresh air.” 

“How did you find it?” 

“The city used to have guards posted all along these walls in time of war, but they haven’t been used for many years now. It’s become a tradition to strand new recruits up here for the night without bedding or food to break them in a bit.” he explained. 

“So you were trapped up here?” she said taking her eyes off the amazing view. 

“I paid my dues, yes, but I wasn’t one of these city boys who’s never spent a night in the cold sea wind,” he said with a chuckle. 

“How did you manage to become a part of the city guard? During my search for you, I had  just assumed you would be working on the wharf or on a ship.” she said. 

“I did for about a year,” he explained,  “but I eventually realized that I had traveled hundreds of miles to one of the largest cities in all of Middle Earth, only to continue the same trade. It didn’t sit well with me so I turned my ambitions to the city guard. I was a young, strong man so they agreed to train me even though I had no experience with a real weapon. It’s not a glorious life, but I’ve seen things I never would have otherwise, both good and bad. How about you? How are things back home?”

“Nothing has changed really, which I guess is to be expected. Your Aunt still hates me,. She never acted on her feelings, probably hoping that her son will eventually return to normal.” she said as she gazed up at the almost full moon. “It was lonely after you left. I had my family, but the people in the village only tolerated me so making more friends wasn’t an option.”. 

“That’s why I wanted you to come with me away from that wretched place,” he sighed. 

“You know why I couldn’t,” she replied, “I'm here now, to take full advantage of your worldly experiences.”

“It will be nice to be the teacher for a change,” he teased,” 

The two  strolled together casually, appreciating the bird’s eye view of the city and surrounding scenery, chatting  and enjoying each other's company. They could see the large fire basins illuminating the square and watched the performers and  people as they migrated from one tavern to another. Many were already have difficulties maneuvering through the crowded streets, stumbling along and talking loudly to any who would listen. They stayed until the fire  reduced to a handful of glowing embers and Morfindir tried to fight back a yawn. 

 “One thing that certainly hasn’t changed is your preference for late night activities,” he said as he rubbed his eyes sleepily. 

Nemire laughed softly, “Well it does suit my chosen profession.” 

“You should come perform at The Dented Shield. It's a popular choice amongst the city guard and the owner, Mr. Amothor , doesn’t tolerate troublemakers,” he suggested as they walked back to the stairs. 

“Could you introduce me ? It would help with my credibility if one of his customers made the suggestion.” she added. 

“Certainly.  We have tomorrow off to enjoy the last day of  Yaviere so I can take you over in the afternoon.” he offered. 

“That sounds fantastic. Thank you so much. I’ll have to introduce you to Finna and Walden, as well. They are a very talented couple who helped me when I first arrived,” she said. 

They returned to the staircase and Morfindir closed the door behind them before assisting her down the slippery steps. The streets were quiet and the only sound was the clacking of their shoes upon the cobblestones. “Where are you staying?” he asked after they reached the soldier’s housing. 

“The Dark Crab,” she replied, “It’s only about a 20 minute walk from here.”

“Good,” he smiled, “That means I might get some sleep before the sun rises,”

“You’re tired, and I can make it on my own,” she insisted. 

“If you think, I’m going to let you walk the streets alone at this hour, you don’t know me at all,” Nemir could tell by the tone in his voice that arguing wouldn't affect his decision. 

“If you insist, but you of all people know I am more than capable of taking care of myself. I doubt any robber would last long facing Mithiel’s techniques,” Nemir stated confidently. 

“I have no doubts about that, but sometimes it’s best to avoid trouble when possible,” he said. 

“I was very good at avoiding trouble till I met you,” she said with a smile as she jokingly poked his side. 

“If memory serves me correctly, I wasn’t kidnapped and almost drowned till after you appeared in my life,” he said with a chuckle. 

It seemed as if they traveled only a few moments before they were under the carved, crab sign. “Thank you for walking me home,” Nemir said freeing her arm from his. 

“No guard worth his salt would leave such a lovely maiden at the mercy of the dangerous creatures that stalk the night,” he mockingly bowed. “Meet you here tomorrow around noon?”

“Hopefully I’ll be awake by then, “ she joked. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly as he reached up to lightly stroke her cheek. 

“Me too,” was all she could say as she froze under this touch unsure what to expect. He stepped closer and placed a gentle kiss upon her cheek, his warm lips barely grazed her skin before he turned and disappeared into the night. She stood at the door for several moments staring at the space where he once stood. 


	12. Long Day, Fun Night

Nemir felt an unpleasant pressure in her head as the sunlight hit her eyes late the next morning. She rubbed her temples and massaged her forehead, hoping to relieve some of the discomfort, but only managed to dull it slightly. She stretched her limbs and she found a causeless tightness that she hadn’t felt since her early training days, and her body felt heavy in the bed. She had never experienced sickness beyond a physical injury and this new development worried her, especially since she couldn’t spare the day to rest.  She hoped she would feel better after she moved around a bit and stretched her muscles. It had been a very eventful six days and perhaps it was catching up with her. She slowly approached the wash basin to bathe, and felt considerably better afterward. Forcing herself to ignore any pain that remained. After dressing and tying a long scarf over her braided hair, she headed down stairs to get a late breakfast and wait for Morfindir. 

The common area was surprisingly quiet and she easily found a table before ordering a meal of soup, bread, and cheese. She was halfway finished when she spotted  Morfindir enter and waved him over, “Good morning,” she greeted her mouth full of bread.

“More like good afternoon,” he said with a smile as he joined her. 

“Are you hungry? This soup is rather nice,” she said before taking another mouthful.

“No, I’m fine. I’d like to get the day started. There’s to be an archery contest in an hour followed by the javelin if you’re interested,” he asked. 

“I’d like that. I’ll hurry up here and then we can leave,” Nemir quickly slurped her soup and gathered the bread and cheese to munch on as they walked toward the arena. 

The competition was held at the training grounds she visited just the day before, and they wedged their way through the crowd to find a seat along the wooden benches. It was pleasant enough and Morfindir was able to explain the rank and backgrounds of many of the participants. “That’s Losson,” he said motioning to the middle aged man approaching the targets, “He’s the man to beat. They say every orc he shoots dies with an arrow in it’s eye.”  Nemir watched excitedly as the man hit the center of each target, forcing squires to push them farther and farther back till they reached the walls of the arena, yet he didn’t falter. Each competitor tried to replicate his skill and while some came close none could match him. She kept an eye out for the Steward’s sons, but to her disappointment neither of them appeared. 

Nemir held tightly to Morfindir as she was jostled by the large herd of people exiting the stadium, clutching his shirt knowing that separation would have her washed away in the sea of people. They pushed, weaved, and shuffled their way till they were finally free. 

“Where to now?” she asked turning to face her guide. 

“Well, I was thinking I would take you to The Dented Shield and introduce you to old Himon and get a bite of lunch,” he said 

“Lead the way,” said Nemir as she rubbed her head. The pain from that morning was getting harder to ignore. 

“Is something wrong,” he asked worriedly. 

“I have a slight headache, that’s all,” she said forcing a smile and powering through her discomfort. 

“It’s probably the crowd, once we get to the tavern I’m sure you’ll feel better,” he insisted as he led her toward  the hopefully quieter location.

The tavern was marked by a metal, circle shield with a sizable den at its center hung above a heavy wooden door. The building was made from a mixture of stone walls and thick wooden beams. The rustic construction  reminding her of the simple home she left only a few days ago and it caused a bitter happiness in her chest.. The limited light and noise inside the spacious common room instantly reduced the pounding in her head, and she found a quiet table while Morfindir found the owner. He soon returned, followed by a tall, portly man with an impressively long, dark beard. “Master Himon, allow me to introduce you to my old friend Nemir. Nemir, this is Master Himon,” he said motioning between them. 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she greeted standing from her seat and offering a small curtsy. 

“How did you manage to get tangled up with this rascal,” he joked dryly with a small twist of a smile. 

“We grew up in the same village,” she said, returning to her seat, “It was very small so he couldn’t be avoided.”

“I have no doubt that he made sure of that,” he replied nudging Morfindir’s side with his elbow. 

“Nemir is making her bardic debut at the festival…” started Morfindir, but he was suddenly caught off by Himmon. 

“I see where this is going. I’m up to my eyeballs in bards, minstrels, balladeers, jugglers, acrobats, and poets,” his words caused her heart to sink. 

“None as good as she is, I can guarantee that,” boasted Morfindir with confidence. 

“That’s a bold claim, most of these performers have been practicing their trade longer than this girl’s been alive,” the owner countered. 

“I guess you’ll just have to judge for yourself,” he said, “and even if she sang like a crow men would come just to admire her.”

Himmon considered his words for a moment, “I’ll tell you what, give me a couple days to let the visiting performers clear out of the city. After that, I’ll let her perform for one night only, and if she does well she is welcome anytime. If you’ve let her beauty deafen your ears, however, you’ll be buying rounds to keep my customers satisfied.” 

“Deal!” Morfinder enthusiastically grasped the man’s hand. Himmon returned to the bar and a young lady approached to take their orders. He ordered half roast chicken with roasted potatoes, and she asked for a glass of wine to sip upon. 

“I wish you hadn’t done that,” she said feeling guilty. 

“Why not?” he asked. 

“I don’t like you risking your wages on me,” she explained. 

He chuckled, “There’s no risk and you know it. No need to be modest with me Nemir.” 

Nemir just took a sip of her wine and enjoyed its warm, spicy flavor as it flowed down her throat. She was already beginning to feel better, and settled down to enjoy a rare moment of quiet. “ Prince Imrahil is hosting a feast this evening and has invited the city guards to attend, would you like to accompany me?” he asked. 

“It was certainly gracious of him to extend the invitation to the guard. Are you certain I would be welcome?” she asked not wanting to intrude. 

“I’m entitled to bring an escort,” he said as he broke off a chicken leg. 

“Well, if you’re certain, it would be foolish to refuse. It’s not everyday you get the opportunity to dine with nobility,” agreed Nemir excitedly. 

“You won’t regret it. There will be food, music, dancing, and wine and beer from the Prince’s private reserves,” he added. 

“I hope I have something decent to wear…” Nemir started to mentally sort through her limited wardrobe.  

“Oh, you won’t be expected to wear anything formal, but those nobles never miss an opportunity to wear the tightest and itchest clothing they can buy,” he said with a smile. 

The couple chatted casually as he finished his meal, and Nemir was feeling the slightest buzz after finishing her glass of wine. This seemed to be stronger than what she drank back home, and she made a mental note to be wary of the wine served at the feast. With lunch concluded, they returned to the streets to stroll amongst the various activities for a while. However, Nemir was quickly feeling drained and Morfindir could tell she was not as engaged as before.  

“Let me take you back to the inn to rest,” he said his brows furrowed in concern.

“I think that’s a good idea,” she said, feeling relieved. It felt like weights had been tied to her arms and legs and the effort to move them was exhausting. Once they reached the Inn, Morfindir insisted on assisting her to her room. “I don’t want you to over exert yourself, if you don’t feel better by this evening please stay here and rest.” 

“Don’t be such a mother hen,” she gave him a weak smile, “I’ll be fine, just be sure not to forget about me.”

“That’s not possible,” he said lightly caressing her brow, “You feel a little warm, I hope you’re not fevered.”

“Shoo you,” she waved her hands at him, “Your worrying will be the death of me.” 

He rolled his eyes. “As the lady wishes,” he said with a mock bow  before exiting the room. 

Nemir stripped down to her shift, and soaked a rag in some water from the basin to place upon her head before collapsing onto the bed. She sighed with contentment, enjoying the feeling of being supported by the bed. She closed her eyes and in moments she drifted off into a deep sleep, but was forced from her nap when noises from downstairs drifted their way up into her room. The clattering of mugs and plates, conversation, and even a fiddle forced her eyes to open in alarm. “It’s dinner time already,” she thought panicking, “I didn’t mean to sleep this long. Morfindir is going to be here soon and I’m not ready.” 

She jumped from the bed and rushed toward her bag to search for something decent to wear to the feast. The only dress she had was a soft blue, floor length gown that wrapped around her waist, and flowed around her legs. It was similar to those her mother wore and lacked the popular  heavy petticoats that added volume to the skirt. She paired it with her grey corset in an attempt to make it appear a little more formal and add some structure to the outfit. She retrieved the silver circlet embedded with an aqua gem and pearls, and examined it in her hands, contemplating adding it to the simple outfit. She had lacked opportunities to wear it since it was presented to her on her birthday, and her desire quickly overcame any reservations. It rested comfortably at the top of her forehead, and she made several loose braids with the front half of her hair, twisted them together, and pulled them to the back to pin in place. She examined her handywork and after making a few adjustments felt very impressed with herself. 

A knock at her door, caused her to jump slightly. “Nemir, it’s me. Are you awake?” Morfindir’s voice came through the door. 

Nemir rushed to open the door and found  him standing on the other side looking dashing in a clean and crisp uniform. “That uniform suits you,” she said admiring his appearance. 

“You look stunning,” he said, his face full of awe. 

She could feel warmth growing in her cheeks, “Thank you, it’s not too much is it? I managed the best I could…”. 

“ And you will still outshine every other lady there,” he insisted. 

“You’re too kind. Give me a moment to fetch my cloak and I’ll be ready,” she gathered it from the bed and placed it around her, making sure the silver pin was secure. She faced her friend to find him staring at her with a confused expression plastered on his face. “What’s wrong? Do I have a stain?” she quickly examined herself searching for the source. 

“Could you remove your cloak?” was all he said. 

“Yes….” she said uncertainty, unfastening the clasp and removing the fabric, “What is this all about?” 

He entered into the room and stepped toward her, his eyes searching, “How odd... please return it.”

Nemir was losing patience, “What is this all about Morfindir?”. 

“I’m not sure, but please humor me,” was all he said. 

She let out a long sigh, “If you insist,” she placed the blue cloak around her shoulders and faced him, eyebrows raised. 

“How curious,” he gently rubbed the fabric between his fingers, “I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before, but whenever you wear this you appear... different.”

“Different?” she repeated, confused. 

“I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s like if you covered a lantern with a blanket, the light is diminished,” he tried to explain. 

“ Laegwen,” she said in realization. 

“How does your aunt enter into it?” he asked. 

“She made this for me as a parting gift,” she once again took off the cloak and turned it so the blue was on the inside, exposing the camouflaging fabric. “It’s supposed to mimic its surrounds to conceal the wearer,” she said demonstrating by stepping into a shadowy corner. “I guess she added a  similar enchantment to help hide some of my more unusually qualities.” 

“What are the chances of me getting one of these?” he asked as he marvelled at the way Nemire dissolved into the shadows. 

“I’ll ask her next time I see her, but don’t get your hopes up,” she said with a smile, returning the blue fabric around her shoulders. “Now let’s get going before we miss all the fun.” 

“Agreed,” he extended his arm to her and she happily accepted. 

_____

The sound of music and conversation traveled over the impressive castle walls as they approached the illuminated grounds. Groups of people were funneling through the gate, many wearing uniforms similar to Morfindir’s, and they joined the procession into a vast courtyard. A large fire sat at its center and long, wooden tables were arranged to provide additional seating. Her eyes then followed the steps up to open double doors, and she caught a glimpse of the dining hall beyond and the people rushing about inside. 

“Come, my Captain, Berenor, promised to save us a spot at his table,” he said as he guided her up the steps. 

Nemir’s mouth dropped as they entered the vast banquet hall and she strained her neck struggling to observe the ceiling that towered above them supported by massive stone columns. Shiny grey and white marble floors and  colorful tapestries depicting various scenes draped along the walls. At the front of the room, she spotted a raised dais that supported a row of tables and at its center a tall, intricately carved chair flanked by smaller, padded chairs, and vases filled with flowers. No one was seated there, but it was easy to assume that it was for the Prince and his family. Extending from the head table was seating for  nobles and their families, Swan Knights, and officers, but as the distance from the head table grew, the ornamentation lessened until it was nonexistent for the outermost tables. 

“If you don’t close your mouth, you’ll catch a fly,” he joked as he pulled her toward the edge of the tables. 

She mouth shut with a snap, “It’s certainly not something you see everyday,” she muttered. 

“Certainly not in Fish Farm,” he said, giving her an encouraging smile, “ I think I see Capt. Berenor, this way.” 

The two  weaved through the tables till a booming voice carried above the noise of the crowd, “Morfindir!” They scanned the faces and spotted  a large, barrel chested man with grey streaks in his dark hair motioning toward them. The couple approached the table already occupied by three men all wearing uniforms who stood to greet Morfindir and his guest. 

“This must be Nemir,” said the older man as he took her hand and brought it to his lips, “We’ve all heard so much about you.” 

“Is that so?” she said surprised, “All good things I hope.”

“Well, we were beginning to doubt your existence,” added a younger man with green eyes and brown hair. “He would go on about this beautiful girl, from some no name village and how she had promised to meet him here one day.”

“Oh did he now,” she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at Morfindir who was suddenly engrossed  by a tapestry as a red touched his cheeks. 

“Speaking of which, don’t think I’ve forgotten our wager Harthon,” said Berenor. 

“You’ll get your money,” grumbled Harthon as he took his seat. 

“You made a wager? ” said Morfindir surprised, “How many participated?”

“Just these three idiots here,” said the Captain with a chuckle.

“Don’t take it personally,” added another soldier who was a little shorter than the rest, his dark hair tied back, “It was all in good fun, and a great way to separate Harthon from his money.”

“I should have known you were involved Amathion. You never miss an opportunity to free someone from their hard earned coin,” laughed Morfindir good naturedly/ “But I expect the winners to use their earnings to buy drinks later on.” 

“Deal!” exclaimed Amathion, “We’ll save it for when this lovely lady performs at The Dented Shield.” 

“You told them about that?” she said confronting Morfindir. 

“Of course I did,” he explained, “I had to ensure that you have the best audience possible.”  

“The way Morfindir talks, we are in for quite the treat. I’m looking forward to it,” said the Captain. 

Their conversation was cut short as horns blasted from the dias signaling the arrival of their host and the beginning of the banquet. Everyone rushed to their feet as they watched for the Prince who entered through a side door at the front of the room, followed by his wife, young children, two familiar brothers, and the Prince’s brother. 

“I welcome you Lords, Ladies, and honorable members of our guard!,” he addressed the great hall his voice echoing off the tall ceiling. “Tonight we celebrate another successful harvest and the continued safety of our borders on land and at sea!” The nobles politely clapped while cheers and whistles exploded from the outer ring of tables. “This wouldn’t be possible without the dedication of the brave men who venture beyond these walls to face the monsters of Mordor. Tonight belongs to you.” Imrahil took his seat signaling the start of the banquet and allowing for the other guests to take their seats. Waves of servers carrying massive platters of  bread, beer, and wine traveled amongst the tables providing each with refreshments. This was followed by a parade of the most glorious dishes Nemire had ever seen, each so large it took several men to carry just one. The procession started with roasted swans but the feathers were arranged in such a way that the animals seemed frozen in time, followed by several suckling pigs, wild boar, venison, and piles of pheasants. 

The platters were placed to the front of the room to be carved and distributed. The men grumbled impatiently as they munched on bread and butter. Nemir’s mouth watered as the smells of the roasted meat wafted through the room. After what seemed like ages, a platter hosting an assortment of meats was  placed at the center of their table and quickly attacked. To avoid scavenging scraps, she claimed her choice by assertively stabbing it with a dinner knife and placing it upon her plate. She received a few startled looks, and answered them with a fierce grin. She poured wine into her goblet and appreciated it’s fruity fragrance before taking a sip of the deep burgundy liquid. It was the perfect balance of of sweetness and spices, and she savored it on her tongue.  When the main courses were finished, trays of pastries and tarts were provided as well. Eventually all had their fill and the men proceeded to moan about their stuffed stomachs. Nemir sat satisfied as she enjoyed her second glass of wine, feeling very content and a little buzzed. 

The strings of a several instruments cut through the haze in her mind, and she saw that an area had been cleared for dancing. Several nobles in their elaborate gowns and tunics were approaching the floor and lining up to perform a choreographed dance. 

“Look at those peacocks prance,” joked Harthon motioning toward the dancers. 

“I think it’s lovely,” said Nemir. 

“Of course you do, you’re a girl. You like frilly nonsense,” he scoffed. 

“And I think you just don’t know how to dance,” she challenged. 

“Not true!” he puffing up his chest. 

She leaned forward and gave him a sly smile, “then prove it.” 

“I can’t” he stammered, “the dance has already started.” 

“Next one then,” she insisted. 

“You’re not going to be able to talk your way out of this one,” interrupted Berenor, “your foot is firmly implanted in your mouth. No one else is going to offer to dance with you that’s for sure.”

Harthon just glared and folded his arms across his chest, “I’ll show you. Next song I’ll prove you all wrong.” 

The song concluded causing Nemir to stand and  drag the pale man toward the clapping crowd. He resisted slightly but she only tightened her grip. The others followed to observe the spectacle, cheering and jeering their friend as they pushed him along. Morfindir stood to follow but was stopped by Capt. Berenor when he placed a hand on his shoulder. He gave him a confused look but returned with him to the table. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked. 

“No, I just wanted to talk with you a moment before they return,” said the Captain as he leaned toward Morfindir. “I find it odd that out of  all the times you talked about the lass, you never mentioned her elven blood.”

Morfindir blinked for a moment in surprise, “Elven blood sir?”

“Don’t play simple with me,” he grunted, “I have eyes in my head and there's no denying it. So you want to tell me how that mud hole produced that woman.” His eyes travelled to Nemir who was flawlessly performing the motions with a struggling partner, “I know they don’t teach that down at the docks.” 

He sighed and pushed his hand through his hair, praying that she forgave him for what he was about to do, “She’s only half,” he lied. 

“Half, that’s nothing to sneeze at,” he said surprised, “How did she come to live in a fishing village? Are there other elves there?”

“I don’t feel very comfortable talking to you about this,” he tried to explain, “She is very private about that part of her life. You know how small towns can be, and she wasn’t well loved. I was her only friend and she trusts me.”

“As long as I don’t have an incident on my hands, because one of my men offends an elven lady who decided to play peasant,” insisted the older man

“No, her father is a simple fisherman. I worked with him at the docks and his family has lived there for generations,” he assured. 

“And her mother?” questioned the captain. 

“Not much is known about her. She appeared one day with Reavor as his wife and hasn’t left since. There were rumors of course, but nothing certain. She was always pleasant to me,” he added. 

“Curious. Elves rarely go beyond their borders now, and to have one living amongst men is unheard of…” the man pondered. 

“Please keep your thoughts secret. She came here to escape suspicious glances and  vicious rumors,” begged Morfindir. 

“Don’t worry lad. Just know that I won’t be the only one asking questions,” he replied. 

_________

Nemir laughed gleefully as she spun around Bereon who attempted to copy her movements. Though he wasn’t the most skilled partner, she still enjoyed the beautiful music as it pulled her along like the tide. She was swimming in a sea of silks, furs, and embroidery. The flashing colors only added to the experience.  The song came to an end and she joined the others in applauding the performers. 

“Shall we go again?” she asked her partner who was breathing heavily with a flushed face. 

“I think I’ve proven my point,” he gasped before fleeing the area. 

Lucky for her, the next dance didn’t require a specific  partner as the men and women divided into two groups on either side of the floor. Each arranged in a line and faced the other. She was paired with a nobleman in his 50’s wearing an elaborate feathered cap.  She curtsied and approached him her arm extended; he bowed and mirrored her movements a friendly smile on his lips. They were together for a few moments before switching partners with the person beside her. This continued as everyone worked their way through the line and she lost track of all the faces,  until grey eyes met hers. She paused as she looked into the face of a surprised Lord Boromir, but she quickly recovered and flashed him a smile. 

“A pleasure to meet you again, my Lord,” she said as their arms met. 

“Well, this is certainly a surprise,” he replied as they circled. 

“Hopefully a pleasant one,” she said as they stepped in unison. 

“I always welcome a dance with a beautiful lady,” he said with a slight grin,but their time together grew short. “Would you do me the honor of saving me a proper dance?”

“Looking forward to it,” she answered before moving on to the next person. 

She headed back to the table where Morfindir was seated with his companions, her heart pounding in her chest. She tried to contain the stupidly large grin that grew across her face and decided to stop by the refreshments table to give herself time to recover. “It’s just a dance,” she thought as she sipped the glass, “and not your first with him either.” She took a deep breath and calmed the jitters in her stomach before rejoining the group.

“You look like you were having fun,” said Morfindir as she sat beside him at the table. 

“Not as much fun as Harthon,” she smirked. 

“That was a treat, I must say,” chuckled Amathion, “I haven’t seen him sweat like that since his first day of training.” 

“Don’t be too rough on him,” she scolded, “he tried which is more than I can say for any of you.” 

“Challenge accepted,” bellowed the captain as he extended his hand to Nemir. 

“It will be my pleasure,” she said placing her hand it his and following him back toward the music. Bereno was a surprisingly good dancer and  light on his feet for an older man. He easily lifted her body into the air with flourish. A giggle escaped her as her feet were placed gently back onto the ground, “You are full of surprises Captain,” she complimented, “that was wonderful.”

“You’re kind to an old man,” he said, “it's been some time since I’ve moved like that.” 

“May I have the next dance?” a voice came from behind her and she turned to see Boromir. 

“Lord Boromir,” Bereon instantly straightened to attention before transitioning into a bow. 

“No need for formalities, this is a celebration.” he insisted. 

The older gentleman relaxed slightly, but eyed her oddly as he backed away, a respectful tilt to his head. Boromir took her hand and brought her closer as the music’s tempo decreased drastically ushing in a slower dance.

“You have me at a disadvantage, Lady Bard, for you know my name but I don’t know yours,” he said placing a hand lightly at her waist. 

“I suppose it’s the least I could do after I ambushed you the other night. It’s Nemir,” she said as a shy smile setting on her face. She couldn’t help but admire his winter sky eyes. 

“Do you have a habit of forcing strangers to dance in the streets?” he asked.

Her face blushed slightly, “I apologize if I caused you any embarrassment, my Lord. I simply wanted to remove the frown from your face.”

“You certainly accomplished your goal,” he slowly spun her outward with his right arm before returning her to his chest. “Are you from Dol Amroth?”

“Unfortunately not,” she replied, “I’m from a small fishing village two days journey from here. This is my first time in this magnificent city.”

“It’s beautiful to be sure, but it doesn’t compare to the majesty of Minis Tirith,” his face lit up as he spoke about his home. 

“I hope to experience it for myself one day,” she said. The conversation paused as they separated to  complete a series of turns and steps. “Congratulations on your victory at the tournament.” she complimented as they rejoined. 

“You were there?” he asked. 

“I was and it was an impressive display of skill. You are a formidable opponent. I  did observe a few occasions where you took risks that some might say are unnecessary,” she commented. 

“There is no reward without risk, and you saw for yourself my success.” 

“Yes, but you leave your defenses weakened,” she said. 

He chuckled and she answered it with a challenging lift of an eyebrow. “Forgive me,” he said, struggling to contain his smile, “I mean no insult, but wielding a sword is different that plucking a harp.”

“And my skills couldn’t possibly extend beyond that?,” she responded coldly.

“Wielding a knife in the kitchen doesn’t make you a blade master,” he jested. 

The dance concluded, she made a stiff curtsy and turned to make an abrupt exit. She was barely containing the frustration that boiled within her and wanted to get away before she voiced her annoyance. His position meant she couldn’t risk offending him. 

“Wait,” called his voice behind her, but she pretended not to hear and continued walking. 

“What happened?” asked Morfindir instantly spotting her expression as she returned to the table, “What did he do?”

“Nothing I shouldn’t have expected,” she muttered as she grabbed her goblet and downed its contents, “Long story short, he mocked me and then told me I belong in a kitchen.”

“How did this come about? he asked.

“I congratulated him on his victory at the tournament and commented that his technique involves taking risks that weaken his defenses,” she explained. 

“You tried giving Lord Boromir, the tournament champion, fighting advice” guffawed Harthon slapping the table, “That man was born with a sword in his hand, and has killed more orcs than you could imagine.” 

“Her observation isn’t wrong,'' commented the captain, “but you can’t blame the man for not taking your advice seriously.”

“I certainly can, he laughed in my face,” she countered still annoyed. 

“Come, let's get you some fresh air,” said Morfindir, offering his arm which she accepted. He guided her out into the courtyard where the fire was still going strong but many of the tables were empty. They strolled around in silence and Nemir took a few calming breaths. “I’m being foolish aren't I? I should have expected this.”

“He certainly could have handled the situation with more tact, but you let your temper win this one,” he said. 

“I’m feeling my head-ache returning, I think I’ll return to my room,” she said rubbing a temple. 

“I’ll walk you home,” he stated.

“No, stay. Enjoy the rest of the party. I don’t want to ruin your fun,” she tried to insist, but he refused to release her arm as he guided her toward the gait


	13. Withdrawal

Nemir and Morfindir strolled through the streets, the party fading into darkness as they traveled into the night. A cold breeze carrying the smell of salt from the ocean caressed her face and she inhaled deeply, savoring the smell of home. The urge to rush to the source overwhelmed her, followed by the sound of crashing waves invading her ears. The gleaming light of the silver moon drew her eye as it peeked from behind a cloud.  Dazed she released his arm and walked toward it.

“Nemir?” Morfindir called out to her as he followed, “Nemir! Are you well?” 

His voice cut through the storm and she suddenly stopped, returning to her senses and observing the distance she had unknowingly traveled. She slowly returned to his side, pulling against an unseen force inside her knowing the slightest weakness would yank her back like a rag doll. “Talk to me” she asked gripping his arm, “ I need a distraction.” 

“What’s wrong?” he tried to search her face. 

“The ocean calls to me. The song is deafening,” she gritted her teeth, forcing one foot in front of the other. 

He tightened his hold on her arm, “Capt. Bereon asked me about your mother.” 

“How did this come about?” she asked, her brow creased. 

“He asked why I never mentioned your Elvish heritage,” he stared straight ahead bracing for a reaction. 

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him you were half-elven and that your mother was an Elven maiden who appeared one day with your father,” he explained. 

“A  Peredhel…” she considered the story for a moment, “ Clever. Did he accept your story?”

“I believe so. You’re not upset?” 

“No, I’m grateful. I just feel guilty that you were placed in that position. I was naive to hope that none would question my appearance,” she sighed, “I think it best if I adopt your story, but only if confronted.” 

“I told him you were sensitive about the subject so I doubt he will approach it again,” he commented. 

“That’s a relief,” she chuckled bitterly, “Barely a week has passed since I left home, and I'm already labeled as an “other ``''. 

“You shine too brightly not be noticed,” he placed his free hand over hers as they headed toward The Dark Crab. 

______________________

Sunlight peeked through the cracks in her small window. Nemir groaned as she struggled to lift her body from the bed but decided against it and collapsed back onto the mattress. Her whole body ached and felt drained of all strength as she lounged in the bed. The pounding in her head returned and she drew the blanket over her eyes to block the incoming light, resolved to stay in bed for as long as possible. She drifted in and out of  a restless sleep for most of the afternoon. She barely managed to shuffle down stairs for food and bring it back to her room. Her dreams were plagued with visions of waves washing upon the shore, cries of gulls, her body sinking into depths, and tracks of white foam left on the sand. As the sun traveled below the horizon, the pain in her head transformed into the pounding of waves against rocks and the noise blocked out all other thought. Desperate for air, she rushed to the window and forced the shutters open, extending her head out the opening. 

The sky had deepened to a rich purple and deep blue. She could see a glimpse of the moon’s silver halo at the top of the city wall. It would be full tonight and the glow called to her, guiding her like the tide out to sea. A small, sensible part of her knew she needed to wait till the streets grew quieter, but she could no longer resist her need. The strain it was placing on her body was unbearable. The docks provided the only access point inside the city walls. She wasn’t thrilled about using such a public area, but most of the workers would have gone home for the evening, so she would only have to worry about the occasional guard. Or at least, that’s what she hoped.  She frantically dressed, and gathered a few necessities. She made sure to bring her cloak as it would help to hide her from unwanted eyes, and a satchel to store her clothes. Unable to wait any longer as the crashing within her head intensified, she strolled out into the dark streets.

The entrance to the wharf was guarded by a tall metal gate, but she nimbly scurried up the bars and  landed silently on the other side. Clinging to the darkness, she observed the area searching for motion. All was still,  the only sound was of water lapping at the hulls of boats. She continued to slink down the row, sticking to the shadows, and pausing every few moments to listen for signs of unwanted company. She finally reached an abandoned dock, and grasping the top of a large post, and shimmied down it townard the water.  Using her legs to hold her body in place, she removed her clothes and stuffed them in the bag along with her knives before securing it under the dock. Releasing her grip, she dove backward into the black depths. As the water enveloped her body, the pain and fatigue of the last two days instantly dissolved and she transformed. She stayed submerged until she traveled farther out into the bay and past the seawall. The moon reflected on the rolling surface of the water, scattering the image into constantly shifting shards. She felt complete peace for the first time since leaving home, cutting through the water with powerful flips of her fin. She frolicked for several hours, but knew she must eventually return before people started to wake. 

She fetched her bag as she climbed up the post and back onto the dock. She quickly wrapped the garment around her body, the fabric sticking to her damp skin. Securing the knives to her waist, she dashed back to the still quiet streets. She didn’t feel like stealth was necessary at this point, so she walked openly on the cobblestone path back to her room. As she passed through a secluded alleyway, she caught the sound of steps following behind her. She continued forward without changing her pace, but cautiously grasped the hilt of   Lachiel . 

Up ahead a tall figure stepped out from behind a corner. “Pretty, young girls shouldn’t walk alone at night. There are unsavory characters on these streets,” his voice was raspy and clothing ragged. 

“I am not without protection” she said drawing her long knives from their sheaths. 

“You see that  Angolon?” his chuckle sent a shiver down her back, “This kitty has claws. You best put those away before you cut yourself. I would hate to see a flaw on that creamy skin.”

The footsteps behind her quickened and grew louder. She angled her head slightly to see another man approaching carrying a large club. Trying to take advantage of the distraction, the tall man rushed her. She easily avoided the attack with a side step, and using his momentum against him, she sent him tumbling to the ground with a kick to his back. 

“Bitch!” he growled his eyes burning with furry. 

Nemir grinned and bounced on her toes preparing for retribution, “I did warn you.” 

“Get her,” he ordered his accomplice. The man with the club rushed at her swinging the weapon wildly. She dodged the first two attacks before blocking the third with one blade and slicing his chest with  Eglossien. “Ahhh” he yelled in pain and surprise as a line of red spread diagonally across his grungy shirt. The wound wasn’t deep but still hindered his movements. A pair of strong arms engulfed her from behind, pinning her arms against her body. 

“You’ll pay for that,” her nose caught the stench of alcohol and decay as his hot breath caressed her neck. 

“I doubt it,” she snapped, releasing the energy stored beneath her skin and administering a powerful electrical shock to the attacker. He howled in pain and she could feel his body convulse against hers, before he collapsed to the ground. She turned to face  Angolon who stared down at his accomplice his eyes wide in fear. “Witch!” he accused. 

In the distance, she could hear the clinking of armor and swords approaching. “Help! This way! Quickly!” she called returning her weapons to her hips. Four city guards rushed in and she directed them toward the two men with a wave of her arm, “These men attacked me.” Spotting the reinforcements, Angolon hastily sprinted away leaving his accomplice behind. 

“Follow that man,” ordered a soldier, “I’ll restrain this one.” Three men in uniform rushed past her, and she took satisfaction in knowing her attacker wouldn’t get far, especially with the wound she inflicted. The remaining man straddled the unconscious ruffian and bound his arms. 

“Are you injured?” he asked standing and turning toward her. “You!” he exclaimed. 

“My luck insists on failing me tonight,” she said dryly as she recognized the surprised face of Lord Boromir.

“A little appreciation seems to be in order,” he challenged  motioning to the prisoner. 

“Thank you for providing the rope,” she offered. 

“What possessed you to be out at this time of night, alone?” he said with an exhausted sigh as he observed her damp hair and dress, “Midnight bathing?”

“My activities don’t concern you,” she said coldly. 

Before he could respond, they were interrupted by a commotion as the fugitive was dragged back. He struggled against his restraints and dug his heels into the cobblestone as the soldiers forced him along. 

“I’m innocent!” he protested, “That girl attacked us. She killed Fin just by touching him. She’s a witch!”. 

“How do you wish to respond to these accusations?” Boromir asked dryly, clearly not believing the man’s ludicrous claims. 

“I believe someone is too ashamed to admit he was defeated by a woman, and he’s not dead,” she nudged the prisoner with her foot and he released a groan.“Just unconscious. He’ll wake with a headache that’s all.” 

“Is that your handy work?” he asked, pointing to the wound on  Angolon’s chest. 

“It is. The wound isn’t deep. He’ll live.”

“Take these two to back to the dungeon,” he ordered, “I’ll escort the lady back to her home.” 

“Aye sir!” saluted the guards before lifting the criminal off the ground. . 

“That’s not necessary” she interjected. 

“It’s very necessary,” he insisted, his voice commanding, “This situation proves that.” He offered her his arm, but she ignored it and walked toward the inn forcing him to follow her. “Are you always this difficult?” he asked walking in step with her. 

“Difficult? How am I being difficult my Lord?” she continued to face forward as she walked and kept her tone neutral. 

“I suspect that if I was on the other end of those knives you carry, I would be in worse shape than those fellows back there,” he said a glint of humor still in his eyes. Nemir remained silent. 

“Do all bards carry such fine weaponry?” he asked, glancing at the blades stored at her waist.

“I can’t speak for all, but I’m sure most do. We often travel the streets late at night after the taverns and inns close,” she explained finally turning to face him. She hated how his handsome features still triggered a nervous tumble in her stomach. 

“May I?” he asked motioning toward the blades. 

She nodded,  pulling  one from its sheath and handed it to him hilt first,“This is Lachiel or Daughter of Fire in the common tongue.” 

He hefted the weapon in his hand, “The craftsmanship is impeccable. Perfectly balanced. It’s beautiful,” he said, obviously impressed. “How did you come to own such a marvelously blade?”

“My mother gave them to me before I left. A family heirloom to keep me safe away from home,” she said, returning it to her belt. 

“Well, you’ve proven that you have some skill,” he said, “Did you father teach you?”

“My aunt actually,” she couldn’t help but smile at his surprised reaction, “My father taught how to play the harp.”

“Your family seems to be an interesting one.” 

“You have no idea,” she muttered to herself. They finally approached The Dark Crab. “Your chivalrous obligations have been fulfilled,” she turned to face him, “ I think I can make it from here.”

“Are you sure? Bandits might be  hiding under your bed. I can check for you if you like?” he sauntered closer to her.  

“And you’ve obviously taken too many blows to the head,” she snapped, slamming the door behind her and rushing up the stairs to her room.  Adrenaline and anger caused her hands to tremble as she attempted to insert the key into the lock. After a couple attempts to finally managed to get the door open. Taking calming breaths, she slowly unbuckled her weapons and examined the blades. A smear of blood sat on the edge of  Eglossien and she reached for a cleaning cloth. She sat on the edge of her bed staring at the darkening blood, emotions fluctuating between revulsion and exhilaration. She would have to be more careful from now on; she couldn’t risk drawing more attention to herself. As for Lord Boromir, she didn’t know what to think of him. He clearly wasn’t used to women challenging him, which isn’t surprising given his position as the future Steward of Gondor. They probably flocked to him, batting eyelashes and drowning him in complements. Her face twisted with disgust and she thanked Ulmo that she wasn’t forced to participate in such degrading activities. He did have a nice smile though….

______

Nemire pushed the large wooden door and walked into the massive library, the smell of parchment welcoming her. She was hoping to find a poem her father taught her many years ago. She wanted to perform it at The Dented Shield the next day, but was having an issue recalling a couple verses. 

“Master Ioriston,” she greeted the older gentleman who appeared to be sorting scrolls. 

“Nemir, I’m glad you’ve returned. I hope you enjoyed the festival,” he said his eyes crinkling as he smiled. 

“It was wonderful. Thank you. I was hoping you could help me. Do you have a copy of “ Upon the Hearth the Fire Is Red”?” she asked hopefully. 

“Mhhhhh,” he pondered for a moment, “I’m not certain, but we have a sizable collection of poems you can search through. Do you have a language preference?”

“Common or Sindarin will be acceptable,” she said. 

“Impressive. The ability to read the elvish languages is a dying skill, and it hurts my heart to think that one day it will be lost,” he sighed as he slowly guided her up the stairs to the second level. He led her past several selves toward the center of the floor. “Here we are,” he said stopping before a pile of scrolls and small pile of well worn books. 

“I appreciate it,” she said, her hands itching to touch the parchment.

“Take your time,” he said with a smile before leaving her. 

She approached the collection of papers and gently ran her hand along the shelf. She finally stopped at a small blue book with gold detailing and cracked leather binding, pulling it free she opened it and scanned the pages. It held a collection of short poems, but none the length she was searching for so she returned it to the shelf and continued her search. She eventually found an armful of promising options, and she carried them to an empty table. Her quest was slightly forgotten, as each page drew her into a different story. She was quite lost within a beautiful poem about the fall of Gondolin when a frustrated grown jarred her from her readings.  She thought she was the only person in this section, but apparently not. She returned to her page, but another groan came from an area a few shelves away. Curious as to what could be causing a person so much grief she stood to investigate. Quietly stepping, she walked toward the noise, peaking around and through the selves. Finally, she spotted him, sitting at table buried under a mountain of papers and tomes, a hint of dark hair peeking over the pile. 

“Is all well here?” she asked causing his head to shoot up. 

“Oh, I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I thought I was alone,” he explained  obviously embarrassed. 

“I know your face” she observed his familiar features with dark hair and grey eyes. “Lord Faramir!” she blurted. 

“Do we know each other?” he asked his head tilted with confusion. 

“We haven’t been formally introduced, but I saw you compete during the festival. You made a gallant effort,” she said. 

“It was not my proudest moment,” he replied glumly.

“You obviously have great skill in order to be a top contender. That is an impressive accomplishment in itself, especially when facing knights with more experience.” she said. 

“Unfortunately it will not be seen that way back home,” he said. “Now I find myself, failing once again.”

“What has you so frustrated?”

“I”m trying to translate this historical text that records the founding of Dol Amroth, but the text is in a form of elvish I am unfamiliar with,” he said with a sigh. 

“May I see it? I might be able to help.” she offered. 

“Yes, please. I’ll take whatever help I can get at this point. 

She walked around the table and leaned forward to better examine the document, “Are you familiar with Telerin?” 

“Telerin?” he repeated confused. 

“It’s an older dialect used by the Teleri elves who founded Dol Amroth after the destruction of Beleriand. It’s closer to Quenya than to the Sindarin now spoken in the city,” she explained. 

“Well that explains my failure. My Sindarin is adequate, but that is the extent of my knowledge. My father never placed much value in studying Elven languages, but I begged my tutor to teach me whenever he could.” he said. 

“If you can’t find a Teleri reference for the translation, try using Quenya. It was more commonly spoken and while it won’t provide a perfect translation it will provide a solid basis.” she smiled. 

“You have my gratitude. What brings you to the library?” he asked. 

“I was searching for a certain poem for my performance tomorrow night. Are you familiar with “Upon the Hearth the Fire Is Red”?” 

“I am. It was one of my mother’s favorites,” his eyes suddenly widened in realization, “You’re the bard from the other night!”

“That I am,” she admitted sheepishly, “I was wondering if you would remember me.”

“That was quite the stunt you pulled with my brother,” he said with a smile. 

“I wasn’t aware of his status at the time. You can imagine my horror when I saw his introduction at the start of the tournament.” 

“Well I enjoyed it and I’m sure he did as well. He does not shy away from attention, especially when ladies are concerned,” he chuckled. 

“He certainly is…” she struggled to find a tactful term, “confident.” 

Her struggling expression caused Faramir to break into hearty laughter, “It seems as if your interactions are not limited to that one night.” Nemir shook her head and informed him about her last two meetings with his brother, frustrations included.

“I can see why he left these tales untold. They don’t put him in the best light. Try not to judge him too harshly. He’s not as arrogant as he pretends to be,” he advised. 

“I will try to keep an open mind, but he doesn’t make it easy. I shall leave you to your studies,” she gave him a smile and smile curtsy before turning to leave. 

“I appreciate your assistance and I wish you luck on your search,” he nodded in farewell before burying himself in parchment. She couldn’t help but wonder how two brothers could be so incredibly different as she returned to her table. 


	14. Employment and a Roommate

Nemir took a deep breath as she smoothed her skirt impersonating pants and light grey blouse before entering The Dented Shield. The sun was slowing sinking toward the horizon so the common room was mostly empty. She spotted Morfindir sitting at a table with Capt. Berenor, Harthon, Amathion, and a few other soldiers unknown to her. They cheered as she approached the table and a bashful blush spread across her cheeks, “I haven’t earned your applause yet,” she said trying to quiet the men.

“We’re simply offering you some encouragement. Not that you need it,” replied Morfindir with a welcoming smile and a quick hug.

“And celebrating a chance to put Harthon’s money to good use!” exclaimed Amathion before lifting his tankard of beer and downing the contents in a few large gulps.

“You better be worth it bard,” grumbled Harthon but he had a slight twinkle in his eye that let her know he wasn’t as sour as he appeared.

“I have prepared a few specific pieces I would like to perform, but I will be taking requests as well. I only ask that you wait till after I become settled,” she said flashing them a smile as she shifted satchel on her shoulder.

“Be warned that some songs requested in establishments such as these can be… crude in nature,” warned Capt. Berenor with a fatherly tone.

“I’m sure soldiers are no worse than sailors or fishermen,” she said, “ I’m optimistic concerning the manners of Gondor’s finest.”

“If anyone gives you trouble don’t hesitate to fetch one of us,” the captain insisted motioning to the men at the table.

“Aye, aye, captain,” she placed her hand over her chest in a salute. “I better get settled before more people arrive. I hope you all enjoy.”

She walked to the front of the room where a large stone fireplace burned. A simple three legged stool sat at the center of the small clearing surrounded by a half moon of tables. She adjusted her bright blue cloak around her as she took a seat. She carefully unpacked her harp and admired the way the flames reflected in the mother of pearl causing a rainbow to gleam and dance. Balancing the instrument upon her thigh and chest, she experimentally ran her hand across the strings, and the notes calmed any remaining jitters. She played a couple simple tunes to awaken the strings and stretch her fingers before starting her first song. Keeping her audience in mind, she chose a song full of danger and adventure.

Far, far beyond the island

We dwelt in shades of twilight

Through dread and weary days

Through grief and endless pain

 

It lies unknown

The land of mine

A hidden gate

To save us from the shadow fall

 

The lord of water spoke

In the silence

Words of wisdom

I've seen the end of all

Be aware the storm gets closer

 

Mirror Mirror on the wall

True hope lies beyond the coast

You're a damned kind can't you see

That the winds will change

Mirror Mirror on the wall

True hope lies beyond the coast

You're a damned kind can't you see

That tomorrow bears insanity

Her fingers flew in a blur across the strings as she continued to sing the tale of  Turgon and the creation of Gondolin with the help of Ulmo. Even if they were unfamiliar with the tale, she hoped they would connect to the adventurous themes. When the song concluded, she lifted her head from her harp and her eyes instantly focused on the table to observe their reactions. It was unnaturally quiet as the men sat like statues, their eyes wide.  The only exception was Morfindir, who sat leaned back, arms crossed, with a beaming smile.

“Was it not enjoyable?” she asked uncertain.

Her question broke the spell they were under, and the room erupted into cheers, and whistles. She looked around and found that the inn’s staff had appeared to watch as well, and they added to the applause. She stood and made a deep bow to thank the small audience as a large grin spread across her face.

“Damn Morfindir,” said Amathion his eyes glued to Nemir, eyebrows raised, “You weren’t exaggerating. If anything, you undersold her skill.”

He chuckled slightly and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “You never would have believed me until you experienced it for yourself.”

“I’m sorry we ever doubted you,” he said finally turning his head away from the bard. “You could tell me the girl could fly at this point and I would believe you.”  

“Try to show some decorum, Amathion,” snorted Harthon, “I know this is well above your usual standards, but at least try to pretend you have some breeding.”

Amathion just rolled his eyes, “I saw your jaw hit the floor the moment she sang her first note.”

Harthon responded with a grunt and a glare, crossing his arms, “I admit it was unexpected, but at least I’m not blathering like a simpleton.”  Amathion easily brushed off his fellow soldier’s comment, with a chuckle. He was used to Harthon’s prickly attitude.

“Hush your chatter,” interrupted Capt.Berenor with a gruff shout, “You two bicker like two old ladies, and the lass is about to begin another tale.” The Captain’s prompting caused a frazzled rush of soldiers struggling to find seats as Nemir resumed  plucking her harp.

The the tables filled as the evening continued.  Hungry men shuffled in from their daily duties to find a warm meal, decent ale, and a little merriment. The clanking of plates and tankards along with increasing chatter, challenged her. She settled with an instrumental performance, until the majority of guests had finished their dinners and became more settled. The room faded away as she focused on her harp and the music that flowed from it.  She selfishly recalled the tunes of her childhood, and time slipped from her.

“I didn’t come here to listen to lullabies,” a booming voice yanked her from her trance.  She tilted her head upward to find a burly man sporting an impressive beard towering above her.

“Would you like to make a request?” she asked unfazed.

“I doubt a delicate thing like you, can do it justice,” he stared down his nose at her, his mouth downturned, “This isn’t a garden party.”

She smirked, “If you are unsatisfied, I’ll buy a round for you and your men.”

“Deal! Gather round lads,” he proclaimed motioned to his compatriots, “success or failure, we will be entertained either way,”

“I’m still waiting to hear the title of your request,” she added.

“Tell us the story of Eärendil,” he said.

“I challenge to be sure for his is a long and eventful tale, but I think I can manage,” she waved her nimble fingers and began the ballad. The Song of Eärendil was one of her favorites and told to her often by her mother, who had the honor of meeting him a couple times. She made a gamble, and performed it using the older Sindarin translation, because she believed the Common tongue lost some of the nuances. She wasn’t exaggerating when she told the man it would be a time consuming performance, elves loved their languages and always found a way to add as much flowery wording as possible. When the song concluded, the room was unusually quiet and she was instantly reminded of reaction she received earlier that evening.

“That was...,” the large man paused as he wiped a single tear from his eye. “I had heard rumors of the beauty of elvish song, but I always thought them exaggerations till now. Thank you for sharing this with us.I swear I could almost smell the salt and feel the wind in the sails.”

Nemir’s body stiffened at his words.  Was he assuming she was a Edhel or was he commenting on her language choice? She thought it best to ignore the comment and not ask him to clarify.

“You are most generous,” she said gathering her harp as she stood from her stool. “If you excuse me, I must take a short break. I am quite parched.”

“Of course! Let me fetch you the best wine this hole can offer,” he exclaimed as he motioned to a serving girl.

“That’s not necessary,” she tried interjecting, but he ignored her objections. He continued to chatter on about how impressed he was with her talent, especially for a young woman. He also provided her with a long list of requests, and she simply smiled and nodded tiredly. When the wine did arrive, she seized the goblet before making her escape, promising to consider his list.

As she returned to Morfindir’s table, she spotted a brightly dressed couple approaching her.  “Walden! Finna!” she rushed forward to embrace her friends, “I thought you had already left the city with the other traveling performers.”

“We postponed our journey by a day or two so we wouldn’t miss your official debut,” explained Finna. “And I’m glad we did.”

“I’ll never again be able to perform The Song of Eärendil, for I know it will forever pale in comparison,”  pouted Walden dramatically.

“This means so much. Thank you. Come let me introduce you to Morfindir. He helped me arrange this opportunity.”

“Oh, we finally get to meet this mysterious friend of yours,” Finna’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. Nemir simply rolled her eyes and guided them to the table.

She was yet again met with a round of applause, and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “Your support is much appreciated,” she said as the soldiers quieted. “I have some fellow performers I want you to meet. This is Finna and Walden. They were kind enough to guide me when I arrived in the city.”

“I am forever grateful to you both,” said Morfindir as he rose to great them.

“Ah, you must be Morfindir,” said the female bard with a sly smile, “Nemir has told us so much about you.”

“She has?”

“Oh, yes. How she left her small village to come find you,” she said.

“Well I did promise to meet him here. I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I hadn’t,” she said slightly elbowing Finna’s side.

“Yes...friend,” she continued to smile like a fox in the hen house, “You must tell me about your time growing up together.”

“Not much to tell. Fish Farm is a very dull place. It’s one of the reasons we chose to leave,” he shrugged.

“I have to return to the stage. Try not to interrogate him,” Nemir said, downing her wine and heading back to her stool.

The rest of the night was much of the same, and she was able to earn a decent sized collection of copper and silver coins. Master Himon was also pleased with her performance and stated that she was welcome anytime. The entire experience left her feeling very accomplished and relieved. This was hopefully the first step toward earning a somewhat consistent income and earning a positive reputation for herself that will draw patrons.

“Are you leaving in the morning?” Nemir asked Finna as they stood outside the tavern in the cool night air. She had already bid the guards good night, but Morfindir, who insisted on escorting her back to her room, waited down the street for her as she said her goodbyes.

“Bright and early,” she said with a frown.

“We plan to travel to Minas Tirith as quickly as possible with a trader caravan. Traveling alone is becoming more dangerous by the year,” explained Walden shaking his head.

“We hope to eventually travel farther north to Rohan,” she continued, “and visit some of Walden’s family. Do you plan on staying in Dol Amroth?” her eyes flickered toward Morfindir with a knowing smile.

“For the time being. I feel like I have much to learn here and a growing circle of friends.”

“Yes...friends. I’m not sure if you are purposefully being naive or if you really are that blind,” said Finna leaning toward her. “Surely you see the way he looks at you?”

Nemir felt a stone fall in the pit of her stomach, “I…I’ve held suspicions that he’s retained feelings for me.”

“And? How does this make you feel?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, “There was something between us all those years ago, but the situation was… complicated between his family and me. He was forced to leave and I had to stay. I think we both need time to become acquainted with the adults we have become.”

“I see. Well only time will tell if this garden shall grow, but don’t neglect it for too long or it might wither,” she said.

“When do you plan to return?” Nemir asked.

“If all goes well,“ answered Walden, “we should be here for the next year’s Yaviere celebration, and I expect by then you will be the most popular bard in the city.”

“I doubt that, but your confidence is encouraging. I will miss you both,” she reached out and embraced the couple, “Na lû e-govaned vîn savo 'lass a lalaith.”

“What does that mean?”

“Until next we meet,  have joy and laughter.”

“I wish the same to you Nemir,” Finna gave her a final squeeze before releasing her and the couple walked down the street and into the night.

____________________________________________________________________________

Nemir studied the dull grey door that she suspected had once been bright blue many years ago. The wood was as smooth as a sea stone and any splinters had long been removed by the elements. She prayed to Ulmo that she had the right address as she reached up and firmingly knocked three times with her knuckle. She waited nervously as she strained to hear sounds of shuffling feet. The door opened quickly with a loud creek.

“Good Morning. Are you Mrs.Gollel? My name is Nemir and Mr. Himon from the Dented,” her verbal flood was suddenly cut off.  A lean wrinkled hand struck like a viper, grabbing her face and forcing it and her body downward. The lady was obviously advanced in age with bright white hair, a slightly bent back, and deep wrinkles. She turned and shifted Nemir’s face in her surprisingly strong hand as she closely examined her visitor. At such a close distance Nemir noticed  the green of her eyes was diminished by a cloudy film.

“You’re younger than I expected,” the elderly woman released her, and she couldn’t help but rub her jaw and cheeks to lessen the effect of her grip. The lady turned and nimbly hobbled her way back into the house, leaving a flustered Nemir standing in the doorway. “Come along. I can’t waste time at my age,” Gollel ordered without looking back. Nemir crossed the threshold, closing the door behind her, and cautiously stepped into a modest kitchen and dining area. The small fireplace still held embers from breakfast and a well worn table with four hand carved chairs sat nestled in a corner. The walls and floor were constructed of stone and mortar like most buildings in the city. A single window provided some light and the only form of  decoration came from a portrait so covered in soot the face was concealed.

“Himon told me that you were looking to rent a room. Is that correct?” Gollel settled down into a padded chair positioned close to the dying flames.

“Yes ma’am,”

“I don’t have much to offer. So if you are looking for frivolous extravagance, you best look elsewhere,” the elderly woman’s voice was firm and stronger than her frail appearance.   

“I only wish for a warm, dry bed, and a place I can safely story my few belongings. Nothing more.”

She huffed, “I’ve become too old to climb the stairs so I keep to the ground,” she motioned to a door Nemir had missed before. “There is a room up there, but it has remained unused and uncleaned for several years. If you possess the will to make it habitable again, it’s yours for 8 gold a month.”

“Thank you!” relief flooded through her. She only had a couple days left at the inn, and the fees were deplenishing her coin quicker than she liked.

“Don’t be thanking me yet,” the woman interrupted, “You haven’t seen it. Go up and take a look, before you accept anything.”

Nemir carefully climbed the steep stone steps, leaving the light from the window behind. She understood why the older woman refused to use the second floor as she traversed through the dark that would be inpeterable to mortal eyes. She reached a door coated in a thick layer of dust. It took a few forceful turns to loosen handle, and as she slowly pushed the door forward she was welcomed by a painful screech of hinges. The room was dark but she could make out a few vague shapes that she assumed was furniture. She slowly stepped toward what she hopped was a window leaving a trail of prints. Pushing the fabric aside released an explosion of dust causing her to sneeze and cough. The window was covered in grime, but enough light escaped through to provide her with a better view of the space. It was a simple room as the lady had said, about the same size as the one at the inn. The mattress would have to be replaced, but the furniture seemed intact. It would take some work and a lot of cleaning but it should do nicely.

________________________________________

Nemir had spent the better part of the week working on her new home. Washing linens, re-stuffing the mattress, dusting, scrubbing, and sweeping. She only paused to return to The Dented Shield to resupply her funds. Gollel seemed pleased with her progress, though she couldn’t see the room itself she commented each time Nemir traveled down the stairs covered in dust and debris.

She carefully placed her spare clothing into the wardrobe and turned to observe her work. Light streamed into the now clear window, and she was thankful for the curtain currently pulled to one side. It was faded with age, but free of dust and webs. The bed was larger than she was used to, with wooden posts carved with images of swans. A woven rug provided some warmth to the floor since it lacked a fireplace. Lucky for her, the cold didn’t affect her much. She smiled, a sense of pride and accomplishment welling up within her. Wait till Morfindir saw the progress she made. He had wanted to help, but a scouting mission was keeping him out of the city for two weeks. She collapsed onto her bed for a well deserved nap.

_____________________________________________________________________

Nemir shifted the stack of awkwardly sized books that struggled to escape her arms. She placed her chin on top in an attempt to stabilize the structure, as she attempted to find her way back to her table. The rows upon rows of shelves turned the grand library into a maze, and she was having trouble navigating it.

“Let me help you with that,” a familiar voice volunteered behind her and she turned to find Lord Faramir approaching, arms outstretched.

“Lord Faramir, that isn’t necessary. I’m not far from my table...I think.”

“I insist,” he carefully slid half of her stack into his own arms, taking care not to drop the precious papers. “I’ve been visiting this library for years, and I still find myself lost amongst the shelves on occasion.”

“Thank you, my Lord. My table should be near a collection of poems,” she said, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“That’s not far from here. I’ll guide you,” his long strides confidently navigated through the maze and Nemir quickened her step to keep up. “Does this area look familiar?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s my pile over there,” she answered walking to the table and adding to the collection.

“This could rival my own table. What are you researching?” he asked as he placed the remaining books down.

“Well I was inspired by your own studies. My mother instructed me on the history of Dol Amroth, but I wanted to compare it to the records kept by the city itself.” This was only partially true as her mother’s account was created from personal experience as she witnessed the creation and growth of the city. Nemir was actually searching for any written account that mentioned the Oaritsi. She knew that the occasional  interaction occurred in the early days, and wondered if they were recorded as fact in mortal memory.

“I’m impressed. I’m certain you will have better luck than me. After hours of frustrating failure, I made very little progress with the Telerin document.”

“Well tales of the past are the main source of my bread and butter,” she said with a small smile, “If you need some assistance, do not hesitate to ask. I could use the practice.”

“I remember you mentioning a performance. Did it go well?

“I believe so. The customers of The Dented Shield seemed very pleased and the owner offered me an open invitation,” she said as she organized her collection.

“The Dented Shield?” his face twisted with confusion, “I’ve heard many soldiers mention that establishment, but it doesn’t seem like a venue suitable for a lady such as yourself.”

“Well I have to start building my reputation somewhere, and the owner was kind enough to give me the opportunity.”

“Shouldn’t your mentor have arranged your debut? Perhaps at a feast or a party hosted by his patreon. I admit that I am not familiar with the traditions of the musical arts, but a tavern seems...below you,” his words left Nemir feeling puzzled.

“I think you are mistaken, my Lord. I have no teacher or mentor,” she explained.

Her statement caused his eyebrows to rise in mild surprise, “I hope I don’t seem too forward, but how did you learn…” he motioned toward the table.

“My family taught me. I’ve had lessons since I was young” she stated as if it was obvious.

“Of course, I should have guessed it’s a family trade,” he said confusion evaporating, “Would I have witnessed them perform either here or back home?”

Nemir blinked and tilted her head, brow furrowed, “Only if you worked with my father on his fishing boat or visited my home.”

Faramir’s face fell, “Fishing?” His inquiry was cut short when a loud voice carried through the library, “Faramir!”.  The sound of his name had the young lord cupping his face in his palms with embarrassment. “You would think he’d never been to a library before.”

“You brother didn’t strike me as scholarly type,” laughed Nemir.

“There you are Faramir,” Boromir appeared from behind a shelf, “I knew I would find you hiding amongst these dusty shelves.” He spotted Nemir and smiled, “Though perhaps it wasn’t only the books that kept my brother occupied.”

“It may be hard for you to believe, but some people have interests that extend beyond themselves,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“I wonder which is sharper, that tongue of yours or the blades you carry?”

“If you every wish to find out, I would be more than willing to provide you with a demonstration,” she  challenged with a smirk. She didn’t understand the effect the man had on her. His presence was both frustrating and invigorating.

Faramir stepped between the feuding couple, “What is your purpose here Boromir?”.

Boromir tore his eyes away from the bard and back to his brother, “I received a letter from father. He expects us to return home sooner than expected. We have a fortnight to prepare a force and return to the city.”

Faramir’s shoulders deflated with the news, “I was enjoying our time here. I hate to cut it short, but I’m sure Father wouldn’t order it if it wasn’t necessary.” He turned to Nemir,  “I would like to hear you perform before I leave. Would you oppose to performing at our farewell feast?”

“I would be honored my lord,” she said attempting to keep her voice calm as excitement bubbled within.

“Thank you. I look forward to it,” said Faramir before following his brother toward the exit.

“Are you going to explain what that was about?” asked Boromir a mischievous glint in his eye. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were smitten by that wild cat disguised as a woman.”

“My motivations aren't so crass. I simply wish to learn more about her”  he stated trying to ignore his brothers playful looks.

“Yes, and I’m certain  her fair face doesn’t enter into it.”

“How many commoners have you encountered that can read and write Common and at least two Elvish languages?” Faramir asked.

“None. My struggles with that blasted language are familiar to you. I’m grateful father never pushed the subject” answered his brother.

“Exactly,” he replied, “There is more to this woman than meets the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song used is "Mirror, Mirror" by Blind Guardian from the album "Nightfall in Middle Earth.


	15. A Lesson in Dress

Nemir leaned her head against her harp and let out a groan of frustration. She sat in her room surrounded by various pieces of parchment containing songs, poems, and stories she had meticulously copied from her favorite sources at the library. She had spent the better part of the week searching for the perfect song to perform at the feast, but every time she plucked the strings the notes sounded flat and lifeless to her ears. She was determined not to waste this opportunity. Performing for such prestigious guests would instantly improve her reputation and make her an eligible option for other noble families. It might even lead to a permanent position. 

Her growing feelings of gloom were interrupted by short, solid taps coming in quick succession from the floor beneath her. A broom handle was  Mrs.Gollel’s prefered way to signal for her presents downstairs since she was unable to climb the steep steps up to the room. Nemir gentle placed her harp on the bed and tidied the papers the best she could before exiting her simple room and down the dark hallway. 

“Haven’t you decided on a song yet? I’m tired of listening to songs with no endings,”  commented Mrs.Gollel as she shuffled along the small kitchen sorting an assortment of gifts from the garden.  “Peel those potatoes,” she motioned to a pile on the worn wooden table. 

Nemir obliged, grabbing the small paring knife from the wall and taking a seat, “No, I’m still searching. I just want it to be perfect.” 

The older lady huffed, “There’s no such thing as perfect.” 

“Clearly you haven’t met by mother,” she said, smoothly drawing the knife’s blade over the surface of the root. 

“Well she could have done a better job of teaching you how to peel a potato. I could have done five by now if I trusted my eyes,” she grumbled tossing other vegetables into a pot boiling on the hearth. The younger woman smiled good naturedly as she continued her task. The woman had a sharp tongue but a good heart. 

“I recommend you sing about Minas Tirith,” she said, “I have yet to meet someone from that city who can’t stop blathering about how glorious and marvelous it is.” 

“I’ll consider it,” said Nemir, “but I haven’t been able to find one. If I had more time I could search the library more thoroughly, but a week has already flown past.” 

“I might be able to assist you with that,” she said stirring the pot and adding spices causing a delicious aroma to fill the kitchen. Nemir lifted her head from the spud she was working on, hopeful eyes turned toward the woman. “I worked in the castle for several years, when I could get along easier. I remember when Lord Denathor came to woo our young, beautiful princess. He had his bard sing a long and elaborate song about the White City hoping to impress her.” 

“And you still remember it after all this time?” she asked excitement growing. 

“Well it was hard to forget. It became a favorite of the Princess and she had it performed on a daily basis by her personal bard. It lost popularity after she left. I think everyone was grateful when they didn't hear it anymore”

Nemir dropped the knife and rushed to the old woman’s side, grasping her thin, wrinkled hands, “You must teach me. Please.” 

“Not until you finish those potatoes,” she demanded, “ I don’t have all day and they need to be added to the stew.”  The bard renewed her task with new vigour, hoping the lady held the key to her success. Dinner preparations continued without much chatter, and once everything was added to the large kettle they could only wait. 

“Have you put any thought into what you’re going to wear?” asked Mrs.Gollel as she lowered herself into a padded chair near the fireplace. 

Nemir glanced down at her current outfit which consisted of a long skirt, blouse, and corset, “Not really. Something similar to this I suppose.” 

Her answer caused the older woman to start in surprise, “You can’t be serious. You’ve spent all this time torturing yourself about a perfect song, and you were going to arrive in that.” 

“I wore something similar to the festival feast,” she said defensively re-examining her clothes. Sure they weren’t fancy, but they were clean, well made, and allowed movement.  

“First rule of court. Appearance is everything. No one would take you seriously in that. Not even if you cried diamonds and called lighting from the sky.”   

“They should be judging me with their ears, not their eyes,” she furrowed her brow and crossed her arms in frustration. “Even if I had the gold to purchase a new outfit, I doubt a seamstress could complete the most basic of garments in a weeks time.”

“I forget sometimes how naive you are with all your fancy learning and books.” Mrs.Gollel pulled herself from the chair and slowly walked toward her bedroom door. “I might have something that could help.” From the open door, Nemir could hear the scraping of wood as a heavy object was dragged across the floor and the rustling of fabric. When she emerged from the room, she was struggling to carry a bundle of gray fabric. Nemir rushed to take it from her before the elderly woman could stumbled on the dragging fabric. 

Nemir held up the bundle to reveal a grey linen dress trimmed along the neck, sleeves, and hem with dark blue lace. The sides were open, but tiny loops allowed for lacing to form the dress to the wear’s figure. The neckline was a shallow scoop and the sleeves could be removed or reattached with a few stitches.  She spotted a few places were the thread was bare, but beyond that it seemed to be in great condition. 

“This hasn’t had fresh air for many, many years, so you’ll need to air it out for a couple days,” Gollel explained as she felt the fabric between her hands, searching for any imperfections. “You will need to procure some fabric or lace to be added to the hem. I wore this before I got this hunch in my back, and it will still be too short on you.” 

“Its beautiful,” Nemir was overwhelmed with a feeling of gratitude and relief causing her eyes to well up. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Oh don’t go acting like I did something difficult,” she tiffed. “It was taking up space in my truck and I was never going to wear it again. Now let’s check the fit. The garments you have on now should serve as a decent set of petticoats.” 

Nemir gently lifted the bottom of the dress over her head, and after a little struggling managed to pull the garment around her. The unlaced sides, made it sit awkwardly and required some shifted to get it settled. Mrs.Gollel quickly set about tightening the lacing, pulling the dress snuggly against her thin waist. 

“That fits nicely,” she said doing her best to examine her handy work with her limited sight. “Take a few steps, lets see how it moves.” 

Nemir took a cautious step and then another until she walked the span of the lower room. The dress moved easily enough, but it was made with  a heavier fabric and the added layer was thicker than what she was used to wearing. The sleeves fitted tightly against her arms, making her feel restricted. She had never enjoyed sleeves for that reason and avoided wearing them whenever possible. Her mother felt the same way. It would take some adjusting, but she would adapt. 

“I was right about the hem. It will need to be extended a few inches. It will cost you extra to rush the order, but I think it can be done within the time needed.” 

“Do I look presentable?” she gave the gown a twirl. 

“Well we are certainly making progress,” Mrs.Gollel grinned. 

__________ 

Nemir’s hold around Morfindir’s waist tightened as the horse’s pace increased from a casual walk to a brisk trott. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she fought the urge to bury her face into his shoulders. Her rigid body bounced uncomfortably with each step and she knew she was going to fall off and be trampled at any moment. 

Morfindir chuckled, “You need to relax. You’re making the horse nervous. Try moving with Rocharan, like a piece of wood drifting with the tide. Up and down. Up and down”

“Easier said than done” she grumbled. She tried to release some of the tension trapped in her leg muscles, but the feeling of slipping quickly ruined any progress. 

“Now you know how I felt during our first swimming lessons,” he teased turning his head back the best he could  to observe her. “At least try to loosen your grip around my waist. I would like to breath,” he sent her a reassuring smile. 

Her face blushed and she slowly slipped her arms away from his stabilizing center. She settled for grasping his shirt and prayed to Ulmo that if she tumbled it would be enough to save her. The only reason she agreed to ride the terrifying creature was because it was the fastest way to the beach. Morfinder wasn’t thrilled when she informed him of her midnight visits to the docs for her weekly swim. He insisted on taking her outside the walls and away from the cliffs to an actual shore secluded from unwanted eyes. She had agreed before he informed her of the need to travel on horseback. She was having regrets. 

“You need to learn how to ride,” he lectured, “You can’t swim everywhere. What if I’m not here?”

“I will use the docks,” she insisted, teeth clenched in concentration. 

He let out a frustrated sigh and his brow furrowed, “Its too risky Nemir. I don’t like it, but I’ve already said my piece about it.” 

“I have my cloke and if needed I can summon fog to cover me,” she wasn’t in the mood to argue, but it did take her mind off her fears. “I’m grateful for your help, but I’m not taking one of these things out alone. Maybe never again if I can help it.” 

“Don’t be so certain about the future. It has a way of proving even the wisest wrong,” he said confidently.

About an hour and a half later, the destination finally appeared. Morfindir guide the horse to the edge of the beach, and dismounted before helping her down from the saddle. Her legs protested as they swung over horse’s back and slid to the ground. A groan escaped her lips as she rubbed her sore thighs and bottom. 

“My legs haven’t felt this tortured since my first sparings with Mithiell” 

“You should’ve listened to me,” he didn’t hide his amused grin as she attempted to  hobble toward the shore, “You wouldn’t be nearly this sore if you would relax.” 

Instead of soft sand, the waves met a large collection of small stones and rocks worn smooth from years of fighting the water. A scattering of boulders also lined the shore forming small pools that reminded behind when the tide fell. She let the smell of salt and the melody of lapping of waves overcome her, feeding the constant need within her soul. In a trance, she slowly removed her cloke, boots, tunic, knives, and was unlacing her leggings when a cough interrupted her. 

“I’ll be over there,” he motioned to a wall of stone. There was blush forming in his cheeks and his eyes were focused firmly on the ground. 

Her own face flushed but he had seen her with a bound chest before, though it seemed like a lifetime ago now. She had changed and so had he. “Do you want to join me?”

“In this cold? Nay, I don’t want to catch my death.” 

“Oh,” she hadn’t considered the weather. It had become significantly cooler as Winter approached. 

“Go. Enjoy yourself and I’ll have a warm fire waiting. There’s plenty of driftwood here,” he dared look up momentarily to meet her eyes before retreating behind a rock.  

She removed the leggings and added them to the collection placed upon a waist high boulder and walked toward the waves. The cold water flooded over her feet and instantly soothed some of her discomfort. Instead of shivering with goosebumps, she felt refreshed and continued  farther into the waves. When it reached above her waist, she transformed and dove into the dark depths. 

After a couple hours of frolicing, Nemir finally returned to the stony shore. In her hands she carried two large fish which she presented to Morfinder who was stoking a roaring fire. 

“I have lunch,” she proclaimed as she pulled her cloak around her damp body and settling near the flames to dry. 

“Well, look at those beauties,” he exclaimed taking the fish from her and examining them. “These would go for a pretty price back in Fish Farm.” 

“Well if I don’t succeed at being a bard, perhaps I’ll become a fisherman,” she said flashing a full smile. 

He pulled out a small knife from his boot and made a long slit in the belly of each fish, scooping out the guts with his hands and returning them to the sea. He ran a skewer along the bodies and placed it near the flame to cook. 

“I have some other rations in my pack. I’ll be just a moment.” When he returned he was carrying a water skin, a crusty loaf of bread, and some cheese. 

“Well this is a proper picnic,” she praised. 

“I wouldn’t be a proper soldier if I wasn’t prepared,” he said. 

The fish didn’t take long to cook, and the two were soon enjoying the simple meal. “How goes the preparation for the feast?”

She picked flakey flesh away from small fish bones,“Better than it was. I finally settled on a ballad about Minas Tirith.”

“That seems suitable… do you not find this invitation odd?” he asked hesitantly. 

“I was certainly surprised, but I couldn’t have refused.” 

“I suppose,” his tone was cautious, “I just worry about his motives.” 

“If Lord Boromir had extended the invitation, I would say that you were right to do so. But from what I can tell, his brother it not as arrogant and is a true scholar.”

“Does the Prince not have minstrels of his own they could ask?” 

“I’m positive he does. Perhaps he is trying to repay me for the assistance I offered him at the library.”

“I suppose...”  he said but he didn’t sound convinced. 

“No matter his motives, I can’t turn down such a fortuitous opportunity,” she stood tossing her skewer into the fire. “Now I'm going to dress and you’re going to show me what the City Guard has taught you.” 

He lifted an eyebrow at the challenge and crossed his arms, “Are you challenging me?”

“I am. If I let my skills grow rusty, Mithiel will make my life miserable next time I meet her.”

“I won’t hold back.” 

“Neither will I,” she gave him a sly grin that sent a small shiver of nervousness down into his gut before dashing away. 

She soon returned to find Morfindir performing simple stretches designed to warm and loosen the muscles. She couldn’t help but admire the way his muscled body moved smoothly, with obvious strength. Even hidden under his tunic she could see the muscles bulge thanks to training with the City Guard. Her gaze caused him to look up and she quickly tried to hide her interest by shifting it to a flock of seagulls settling nearby. 

“You’re not having second thoughts are you?” he asked, a mischievous grin growing as he unsheathed his longsword. 

“Never,” she followed his actions, drawing her  ekets from her belt . 

The pair slowly circled, searching, assessing for any weakness or opportunity. Nemir struck first. It was a quick attack followed by an immediate retreat used to judge the opponents reflexes. He blocked it perfectly and followed up with one of his own. They continued like this for a few minutes, slowly testing the other until Nemir became bored and decided to quicken the tempo. She rushed him, using both knives to slash at this center, he dodged and block with his own sword. He attempted to kick at her legs to make her stumble, but she leapt out of the way and her steel met his in the air. 

“I’m impressed,” he said bringing his body closer to hers. 

“This has only just begun,” she freed her blades and swirled them around in a graceful display of control. 

This continued for over an hour. Morfindir continued to hold his own against her more elaborate style and even managed to score a time or two. Eventually both parties finally agreed to a draw, and panting they collapsed upon the ground leaning against a large stone outcrop. 

“That was marvelous,” he gasped, turning to give her a large smile.

“I didn’t realize how much I’d missed this,” she said also breathing heavily. “The City Guard has taught you well.” 

“Why do I get the feeling you held back?”

“Because if I didn’t you would be standing” she laughed and extended her pointer finger toward his left hand. When the tip of her finger contacted his skin, a small electrical charge jolted him causing him to jump slightly and instinctively jerked his hand away. 

“That’s new,” he held his hand against his chest and stared disbelievingly at hand. 

“I discovered some new tricks after you left,” she explained. 

“Are there any others I need to be made aware of?” 

“I guess you’ll just have to find out the hard way” she laughed at the scowl that formed on his face. “You look like I just stole your last sweet.” He sent an annoyed glare her way, which made her laugh even more. 

“And yet you still can’t ride a horse. I’m beginning to question your family’s priorities.” 

“I can’t ride land horses. I can ride a seahorse perfectly. I must say I find them superior in every way.” 

He gave her a doubtful look, “You’re not serious. Seahorses?”

She stood and walked toward the fire without offering an answer but the edges of her mouth struggled not to turn upward. 

“Nemir!” he called after her, “Surely you jest.” He scurried to follow, continuing his protests which remained unanswered by the foam maiden. 


	16. Practice and Performance

Nemir approached the gated courtyard that served as the only entrance into the stone fortress that contained the Prince’s home. The heavy fortified doors were no longer open in welcome and armed guards restricted access. It conflicted with the pleasant memory she held of the banquet, and increased her nerves. 

“State your business” demand a man dressed in the shining silver and blue armor of the Swan Knights. 

Nemir reached inside a pocket of her sactual and pulled out a slightly flattened scroll. The message had been delivered a few days ago and contained an official invitation to perform at the farewell banquet hosted by the Prince for his nephews. The paper was thick and smooth, with a Swan Ship embossed at the top and a wax seal at the seam. It instructed her to arrive a day before the banquet to meet with Thanor, the court minstrel, who was organizing the entertainment for the event. “I’m here to rehearse for the banquet tomorrow,” she handed him the paper, “ I’ll be performing.” 

The guard glanced down at the summons, examining it for a moment before returning it to her. “You may enter.” He moved aside, allowing her to squeeze through the small gap and into the bustling yard. Gone were the tables and the fire, and in their place was a bustling mix of servants and soldiers. None gave her a glance as they focused on their tasks. She tried her best not to disrupt them as she made her way up the steps and into the great hall. The commotion inside was more intense and she barely managed to dodge a parade of woman carrying bins full of lines and plates. 

“Pardon me,” she muttered but her apology didn’t prevent the dirty looks sent her way. 

Gathered in the center of the room, were five well dressed men holding a collection of instruments. Their attention was focused on a plump older gentleman with graying temples, dressed in a rich burgundy and gold robe.  He arms flailed about with great vigor as if attempting to directing an army. Nemir felt safe assuming the man was the court minstrel and did her best to reach the performers without disrupting the swiftly changing current of people swirling around her. As she grew closer, she could hear the man lecturing a lute player about a mistake he made. Not wanting to interrupt, she stood quietly waiting to be acknowledged. It didn’t take long for his sharp eyes to focus on the intruder.

“And you are?” the man ran his eyes over her simple dress and vibrant blue cloak, clearly unimpressed. Despite his smaller stature, he managed to still look down his nose at her. 

“I was invited to perform at the banquet tomorrow,” she handed him the scroll, “I was instructed to participate in the rehearsal this afternoon.”

The man snatched the paper, and examined it carefully. With each line his forehead creased and he rubbed his temple with his free hand. “Ulmo save me from the meddlings of noble sons. I have no need of street performers. You may go.” He pushed the now crumpled parchment into her hands, waving her away before turning his back upon her. 

Nemir stood in shock for a moment and a trickle of anger seeped into her. Her status did not affect her talent, and she wouldn’t let him dismiss her. Not after all the work she had invested. “Excuse me Sir, but I was personally invited by Lord Faramir to perform. I’m sure he would be very disappointed to find out that his wishes were ignored.” 

The man let out a long defeated sigh. His hope that she wouldn’t have the courage to challenge him destroyed. “I don’t have the time or inclination to deal with amateurs or common street rabble.” He stepped closer to her, his eyes staring intently into hers, “I will not hesitate to have you removed if I find you lacking. Understood?” 

Nemir, fighting against a triumphant smile, nodded in agreement.  

“You have a minute. Demonstrate what you can do.” he motioned to a chair at the center of the group. The other musicians eyed her curiously and a few openly enjoyed the distress she was causing the man. They hid their smiles behind well placed instruments, turning their faces to make imaginary adjustments. Only one seemed openly annoyed. He was a thin but fit young man, around her age. His sleek, long, dark hair fell past his shoulders and to the middle of his back, a style that was unusually long for men in the city. He was dressed in fine robes similar to those of the head minstrel and his piercing blue eyes glared daggers as her as she drew her harp from her bag. 

Knowing she needed to make a large impact in a short time, she decided to perform the _The Song of Beren and Lúthien_ in Sindarin. She only managed to get through one stanza before the man waved a cutting motion with this hand signaling her to stop. 

“That’s enough. You don’t seem completely incompetent. Here,” he handed her a small sheet of parchment. “This lists the collection of songs I have selected for the evening. You will have to asked someone else to read it for you.” 

“That won’t be necessary,” she stated, skimming over the titles. She caught an unknown flicker in his eyes at her statement, but she ignored it. The sea slug was probably expecting her to be illiterate as well as talentless. She was familiar with most of the titles, but a couple were unknown to her and she told him so. 

“Not my problem. If you can’t perform to my satisfaction, you won’t participate. My focus is on my apprentice, Cellinnor. Tomorrow night is his official debut to the court. And I won’t have it ruined because Lord Faramir fancies a pretty face.” his voice was strong and bounced from the stone walls  making his disdain clear. 

Nemir refused to lower her eyes, and give into his attempts at intimidation. The magic of song and creation flowed through her veins. He was a swimmer enjoying the shallows of the shore, but never able to enter into the true depths of the ocean. She lived and breathed it, harnessing its power. “I have prepared a song for the occasion. Will I have the opportunity to perform it?” 

“Not possible. I have carefully crafted the flow of the evening, and it’s too late to add anymore elements. Take a seat. You have wasted enough of my time.” he clapped his hands and motioned for the men to take their seats. It took every ounce of her self control not to challenge the man after all the work and preparation she had invested. She knew, however, if she caused a scene, Thanor would not hesitate to expel her and claim her difficult nature as the cause. If she made a bad impression now, she could destroy any future opportunities. Knowing this still didn’t improve her mood.

Cellinnor stood at the center of the half circle holding a small, but elaborately carved harp inlaid with semiprecious gems. Nemir rushed to claim a seat for her own, ignoring the curious glances sent her way. She may not be familiar with court life, but a simpleton could see the scandalous stories each was creating in his head. She kept her head held high and faced ahead, refusing to acknowledge them as she placed her fingers in the correct position for the first song. The apprentice started by plucking the tune on his harp and singing the first stanza, the other musicians then added their instruments and she followed suit. 

He had a surprisingly warm and rich voice, and she had to admit it was pleasant to her ears. His choice instrument was to be expected as Dol Amroth was famous for its skilled harpist throughout Middle Earth. What confused her most, however, was his lack of grace and confidence when it came to plucking the strings. Once the group instruments join him, he treated it like little more than a prop and focused more on the vocals. Those not versed in musical practices wouldn’t notice, but for someone like herself who was playing since she was a toddler it was obvious. The song concluded and she could feel the men around her relax, even Thanor’s eyes seemed slightly less tense knowing days of hard work might not be ruined by a random tavern performer being forced upon them. 

With only a moment’s pause, the next ballad began. There were slight differences from the version Nemir was familiar with, but she adjusted and followed the lead of the talented musicians around her. This continued until they reached a song title she didn’t know. As they played, she sat quietly and absorbed the melody. She only needed to hear it once and it would forever be apart of the collection she carried with her. This continued until the set was complete and Thanor dismissed them for a quick break. The Court Minstrel and his son spoke quietly to the side while the others rushed to a table where pitchers of wine were provided. Nemir followed to the table and gratefully grabbed a gobblet. 

“When Mastor Thanor was informed that Lord Faramir extended an invitation to an unknown bard, many of us thought it was a joke,” said the lutist. 

“I assure you. I was just as surprised when I was offered the opportunity,” she took a long sip of the cool sweet liquid. This explained why the Head Bard wasn’t prepared for her. He probably hoped she would be too intimidated to show or wouldn’t reach his standards and he could send her away. 

“I am certainly glad you did,” added a flutist, “ I haven’t seen him sweat like that…. Well ever. Each correct note you play is a tiny needle to his heart. I am Glínir, and this is Lossion, Hannor, and Tarion” 

“Nemir. Pleasure to meet such talented artists.  Is he always this… intense?” 

“Always. Though this banquet has him more tightly wound than usual.” said Tarion with a frustrated frown.

“Why is that?” she asked. 

“Combine the shortened preparation time with presenting his legacy to the court, and you have a man that needs a drink,” chucked Hannor before following his own advice.

“If he feels so rushed, why doesn’t he postpone his son’s performance?” 

“And miss having the lords of Minas Tirith witness his greatness? You would have more luck putting an orc in a dress,” joked Tarion. 

“He’s hoping to secure him a position with the Lore Keeper,”  added Glínir

“Lore Keeper?” her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to place the title, but nothing came to her. 

“It’s a newer title formerly known as the Royal Bard of Gondor. He oversees and appoints all musicians in the Steward’s court and approves all newly composed materials concerning Gondor and it’s nobles,” Glinir explained.

“A coveted position I’m sure,” she said.

“Extremely coveted and openings are rare. Appointments last a lifetime and the Lore Keeper usually choices from the sons of current members,” he continued. 

“What is the source of Master Thanor’s confidence that this performance will provide his son with such an opportunity?”  she asked.

“There is a rumor circulating that the Keeper will be visiting various noble homes throughout Gondor in search of new apprentices. I’m sure Master Thanor will approach the brothers and request they mention his son to the Keeper upon their return to the capital.” Glínir’s explanation was put to a halt as Thanor demanded their return. Three of the men, their glasses empty, returned the goblets to the table and rushed back toward their chairs leaving Nemir and Lossion alone to finish their last sips. 

Just as she was turning to follow, he broke his silence, “You don’t speak or perform like a common street performer.” 

The statement caught Nemir off guard and she paused to face him, “Perhaps you need to adjust your expectations of ‘commoners’.” Feeling satisfied with her answer, she left him at the table before he could respond and cause her to delay the practice. 

___________________________________________________ 

Nemir sat with her fellow musicians near the front of the banquet hall, waiting for guests to arrive. She absentmindedly pulled at the sleeve of her altered dress, hoping her face did not betray the tingling of nerves settling in her stomach. The seamstress had added a wide band of deep blue fabric to the hem to add length. At Nemir’s request, she shortened the sleeves so they ended just above the elbow, and the same blue fabric was added at the end to create a small drape. Her silver circlet with aqua gem sat nestled amongst her dark wavy locks above her forehead. The sides of her hair were loosely pulled back to hide the point of her ears and pinned at the back of her head in a simple twist.

Morfindir had commented that she looked like a true lady which helped soothe her insecurities. She felt like an imposter sitting amongst these well dressed men and knew the feeling would only increase when the nobles and their finery joined them. She wished that he could have accompanied her, but unfortunately this event was only accessible to those extended an invitation. Even his status as a city guard couldn’t gain him access. She was pulled from her thoughts as Thanor approached, followed closely by his son. 

“Guest are being escorted into the hall as we speak,” he stated examining each of his performers in search of flaws. His eyes stopped at Nemir and the down turn of his mouth caused her to freeze like a deer caught in the sights of a wolf. “Take off that garish cloak. This isn’t a carnival,” he then addressed the group. “I want music playing as guests arrive and after the Prince’s welcome speech. I will instruct you when you can partake of the food. And not a moment before.” They all nodded in understanding and he marched away followed by his son. 

Nemir reluctantly stood to removed the enchanted cloak from her shoulders and draped it on the back of her chair. She hadn’t been seen in public without it since she entered the city and it created a sense of security when she wore it. Not to mention that it helped mask some of her inhuman traits. 

“The man acts as if we haven’t participated as banquet entertainment before,” commented Hannor with a roll of his eyes. “The nobles don’t change their itinerary. It’s the same each time.” 

“Some of us haven’t” said Lossion sending a purposeful look in Nemir’s direction. 

“Well she could have fooled me,” complemented Glínir sending her a reassuring smile. “We best not dally any longer, or Thanor will have our heads.” 

Nemir joined the others as they softly played instrumental pieces as each guest was announced and seated. The tables provided were not as numerous as the ones setup during the festival, and kept close to the dias signaling the high status of the intended guest. While the importance of fashion was still a mystery to her, she still appreciate the artistry and workmanship that was placed into each of the gowns. Both women and men sported elaborate embroidery,  precious metals studded with gems, and lush furs. 

Thanor approached again to instruct them to pause as Prince Imrahil and his family entered the hall and took their places at the head table. Nemir’s eyes drew toward the brothers as each took a seat on either side of their Uncle. She noticed how their attire differed from those around them. While high in quality, it lacked many of the flourishes she had seen and resembled the clothing worn by a high ranking officer. The most lavish element that each wore was a fur lined cloak with silver pins depicting the white tree of Gondor. As if feeling her eyes upon them, their sights turned toward her. Faramir gave the slightest of smiles and Boromir nodded in acknowledgement before returning to their conversations. 

The night proceed smoothly and with each song, Nemir could feel the tension within her slowly release so that by the time Thanor arrived to free them for dinner she was actually enjoying herself. The servants had provided a small table away from guests’ eyes that contained whatever food was left after the visitors had been served. There were various selections of meat, bread, greens, and wine. They all, except for Cellinnor who was with his father at an official table, quickly found a seat and divided the spoils. There wasn’t much time for chatter, since they were expected back soon and no one wanted to risk facing Thanor’s wrath. Nemir was overcome by a sudden feeling of surrealness as her mind tried to absorb the fact that she was here, performing for the Prince and his family. Her life had changed so quickly since leaving her tiny village, and moments like these made her realize how far she had come and how much farther she wanted to go. 

“We best get getting back,” Glínir’s voice broke through her thoughts, “I can feel Thanor’s eyes burning holes into our empty chairs.” Everyone muttered in agreement and stood to return to their station. Cellinnor’s big moment was scheduled to take place after dinner was concluded. 

Thanor sauntered to the front of the dias, “My Liege and honored guests,” he sank into a low bow directed at Prince Imrahil and his nephews before turning to the tables behind him with a flourish. “Ladies and Gentlemen of the Court. Tonight, I have the honor of presenting my son and apprentice Cellinnor. After years of cultivated his great talent, I have deemed him ready to offer his services to the great nobility of this city just as my family has done for generations. I humbly ask that you lend him your ears.” The audience offered polite applause as Cellinnor approached the center of the room instrument in hand. 

The night progressed as smoothly as the previous day’s rehearsals. When given the chance, Nemir would observe the faces in the audience and they seemed to enjoy the performance. The only exception was Lord Boromir whose glazed eyes stared off into an unseen distance.  She thought she spotted his head sink in sleep a couple times before jerking back into momentary alertness. She couldn’t help but chuckle to herself and was certainly going to tease him about it if given the chance. 

Dancing concluded the night’s activities and after an evening of flowing wine, a few of the attempts made were sloppy. Many of the ladies seemed disappointed as their partners stumbled and staggered around them failing to perform simple movements. Naturally Lord Boromir and Lord Faramir’s attentions became a popular commodity. As soon as one dance ended, a herd of mothers would swarm the young men insisting that they partake in another with their available daughter. Boromir seemed rather unfazed and accepting of his fate. He would smile and offer basic complements to the ladies, but his choice of partners seemed to be by random. Faramir, on the other hand, was obviously overwelmend and mizerable. He smile was more of a grimace and anytime he tried to object he was easily overruled by the gaggle of women. His older brother eventually came to his rescue, insisting that they need to quench their thirst after such a long string of continuous dances. He dragged Faramir through the disappointed group to a refreshment table stocked with chilled wine. Nemir watched in amusement as both downed several goblets in quick succession before sneaking off to hide from the determined women. 

They didn’t appear again, much to the disappointment of all single ladies in attendance, till it was time to bid everyone farewell. The feast had lasted late into the night, and many of the visitors were fighting the need for sleep. As the lords and ladies shuffled away in their now less than pristine attire, Nemir and her fellow performers gathered their belongings. 

“Another successful night,” said Galin stretching his tired muscles and fighting a yawn, “Nemir, you did well.” 

“Thank you. I appreciate the opportunity to perform with such talented musicians,” she said with full sincerity. 

“I’m sure we shall be seeing more of you,” added Hannor as he packed his flute into a wooden case. “Just try to stay on Tharon’s good side.” All activity stopped, their eyes settling on something behind her. She turned to see the cause and found Lord Faramir standing behind her. 

“Lord Faramir,” she dipped into a curtsy. 

“Greetings Mistress Nemir,” he smiled, “ I wanted to thank you for accepting my invitation to perform tonight.” His eyes traveled over the four men who were obviously eavesdropping with badly concealed curiosity. “I only wish your talents were highlighted more.” 

“I was honored to be included. Perhaps another time.” the eyes upon her made her feel tense and she wished they would leave. While she liked the men she performed with, she didn’t trust them not to gossip about this exchange. 

“Perhaps. Due to the late time of your departure, I will provide an escort to return you to your home.” he offered. 

“That won’t be necessary. I would hate to be an inconvenience, and I am more than capable of walking home alone.” she insisted. While she wasn’t wearing her knives at the moment, they still sat in her bag ready to be deployed.

“Boromir said you would say that,” he chuckled. “I don’t doubt your capabilities, I only offer to give myself peace of mind. You wouldn't want to cause me grief would you?”

‘Damn it’ she cursed to herself. He was clever and knew just the words to say so that she couldn’t refuse and use her pride as an excuse. “If you insist,” she reluctantly agreed. 

“Wonderful. I thank you for humoring me. Wait by the gate and a guard will be with you shortly. If you will excuse me, I have a long journey in the morning.” 

“Of course. Harthon gerithach lend vaer. (I hope you will have a good journey).” she said. 

“Annon allen (Thank you),” he responded before leaving. 

When she turned back around to finish her task, she was met with curious looks. “What?”

“How did you become acquainted with Lord Faramir?” asked Lossion bluntly. 

“I met him at the library. He was attempting to translate a document and I offered him some assistance. That is all.” she explained as she packed away her harp. 

“I find that hard to believe,” he challenged . 

“ _ Your belief doesn’t affect the truth _ ,” she responded in Telerin. 

“What does that mean?” asked Lossion forcefully. 

“If a simple tavern bard can understand it, surely you can as well,” she draped her cloak around her shoulders, gathered her bag, and left without waiting for a response. After two days of tiptoeing around Thanor, she didn’t have the patience  to deal with anymore egoes. 

She waited by the main gate as instructed and watched as guests and servants slowly trickled out. With each moment that passed, she regretted refusing Morfindir’s offer to walk her home. She shuffled from foot to foot and thanked Ulmo that the courtyard was mostly deserted and she could have a peaceful moment to herself. The last few days had been stressful and she was feeling drained. If she didn’t have a bodyguard on his way, she might consider going for a swim. The sound of crunching feet alerted her to someone’s approach and she turned to see a tall figure walking toward her. 

“I’m sorry to be an inconvenience. I tried to,” her voice caught off as the face of Lord Boromir appeared from the shadows. “What are you doing here?”

“My brother informed me that you accepted his offer of an escort,” she could see a slight smile on his lips even in the dim light.

“And you volunteered? Isn’t this task beneath your station or is the title ‘Heir to the Stewardship’ not as valued as it once was?” . 

“I attempt an act of chivalry,  and I’m only met with hostility,” he chuckled, “There is a mob of women who would happily stone you to have such an opportunity.” 

“I saw the way they pranced about tonight begging for a crumb of attention. I also saw how quickly you disappeared given the chance,” she smirked and crossed her arms. 

“I simply wish to make amends for my offences,” he looked into her eyes and she could see the honesty in them. “ I know I have not made the best impression.” 

“I would hate to be the cause if you collapse from exhaustion on the road,” she said giving him one last opportunity to pass this to someone else.  

“I’ve done more on less sleep,” he insisted offering his arm. 

She gingerly slipped her arm through his and they strolled through the gate. “Is that why you were nodding off during Cellinnor’s performance?”

He grimaced, “Was it that obvious? He sang well enough, but was a bit long winded for my tastes.” 

“You can blame his father for that. I was certain he would explode when I appeared for rehearsal yesterday and threatened to change his perfect plan.” 

“I hope my brother didn’t inadvertently cause you harm by insisting you be included,” he said as they walked through the silent streets. 

“There was some resistance, but I would have never received this opportunity without him and for that I am grateful. If my low birth wasn’t barrier enough, my sex would typically close what few remaining doors I would have.” 

“You may be the daughter of a fisherman, but you are better educated than most people in this city,” he said. 

“I can thank my mother and aunts for that. They taught me most of what I know. Ada and Naneth always expected great things from me. I hope I don’t disappoint them,” she sighed. 

“I’m familiar with that feeling,” he said a solemn expression overwhelming the smile that once lived there. 

The conversation transformed into a comfortable silence as they walked the deserted cobblestone streets. Their steps disturbing the deep quiet making it seem as if they were the only two people in the city. They entered the courtyard that housed the mermaid fountain. The  bubbling sound of traveling water filled the night as moonlight reflected like diamonds on the surface of the water. It was breathtaking and Nemir didn’t want to leave it. 

“I prepared a song to sing tonight, but Master Thanor said it was too late to add to the program. Would you like to hear it?” she kept her voice low not wanting to disturb the peace of this place. 

“I couldn’t think of a better place than this,” he said guiding her to the fountain where they first met so many weeks ago. 

Nemir positioned herself on the stone that formed the water basin and pulled her harp from her sactual. Boromir joined her and observed quietly, waiting for her to begin. His close proximity made her more nervous than being before the entire court a mere hour ago. She took a steadying breath, drawing stability from the water and moonlight. Her fingers moved intuitively across her strings and she began ‘The Ballad of the White City’. She did not focus on him as she played, but instead her spirit danced with the melody and the singing of the fountain beside her. In her mind, she could see the city as it once was, gleaming and shining in the morning sun, walls smooth as glass, and white as milk. She flew above and along its many levels that served to protect the fragile people within them. She slowly returned as the song came to a conclusion, her body vibrating with wonder and power. She turned to the young lord. His face was dazed and his eyes glimmered. Without thinking, she reached out and placed her hand on his to offer comfort. He jumped at the contact, but didn’t remove his hand from her reach. 

When he finally spoke his voice was gruff with emotion, “I haven’t heard that song in many years. My father forbade it after my mother’s passing.” 

“I hope I didn’t cause you pain,” she said feeling guilty. 

“No. I am glad to hear it again, even though the memories it brings are bittersweet. I wish Faramir could have heard it as well. He was young when she died and his memories of her a few.” 

“Perhaps when you return to Dol Amroth, I will offer him a private performance. Seeing your reaction, I am thankful that Master Thanos didn’t permit me to perform it,” she said giving his hand a light squeeze before returning her harp to her bag. 

He cleared his throat and stood, memories once again pushed back into the darkness of the mind. “Come, it is getting late.” 

The remainder of their walk was in silence. Both too lost in thought to keep up polite conversation. Nemir was fighting waves of guilt as she pictured the image of his pained eyes over and over in her mind. She was so enthralled in her own thoughts that she almost missed the door to the home she shared with Mrs. Gollel. 

“This is my home,” she said stopping before the worn, grey door that was almost lost in the darkness. “Thank you.”

“I hope this means you have buried your grudge against me?” he said with a slight upturn of his lips. 

“For now, but don’t think I will be lenient on any further offences,” she said with a mocking serious tone. 

“I would expect nothing less,” he reached for her hand. She felt the rough calluses formed from years of training rub against her own as he brought her hand to his lips and placed a light kiss upon it. His lips barely scraped the surface of her skin, like butterfly wings brushing past flower petals. “Till we meet again.” 

“I wish you safe travels. Fair winds and high tides,” she half whispered, the tingles on her hand fogging her mind. 

“I look forward till we can meet again Lady Bard,” he reluctantly lowered her hand and freed it from his embrace. He stared into her grey eyes that were not dimed by the darkness surrounding them. Nemir stayed frozen, trying to intrerup the flickers of emotion that flashed across his face but failing. Without saying another word, he stepped back, and walked back toward the castle. 


End file.
